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Cinderella 
of the Storm 

Oviduct Uulton & 
Louis W<eslyrv> 

HT. S. T)eni son & Company 

^Publishers • Chicago 

(Price 50 Cents 



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623 J*Oc*-hH W3fc»3SK» 4*\s& Cl-«ICA<30 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 



CINDERELLA OF THE 


STORM 


oA Comedy-Drama In Three oA&s 


<By 

MAUDE FULTON and LOUIS WESLYN 


/£=^? 


Mffll 

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CHICAGO 
T. S. DEN1SON & COMPANY 

Publishers 



I. 0, 






WARNING, IMPORTANT 




HIS Play is fully protected under the 
Copyright Laws of the United States of 
America, the British Empire, including 
the Dominion of Canada, and all other 
countries included in the Copyright 
Union. 

The purchase or possession of this book conveys 
no right whatever to give any performance of the 
Play either public or private, for gain or for 
charity. 

For AMATEUR presentation, whether admis- 
sion is charged or not, a royalty fee of ten ($10.00) 
dollars for each performance must be paid in ad- 
vance to the publishers, T. S. DENISON & COM- 
PANY, 623 South Wabash Avenue, Chicago, 
Illinois, whose royalty receipt serves as a license 
for each performance. The following notice must 
appear on all programs: "Produced by special 
arrangement with T. S. Denison & Company of 
Chicago, Illinois." 

Violations of the Copyright Law are punishable 
by fine or imprisonment, or both, and anyone par- 
ticipating in an unauthorized performance is guilty 
of an infringement. All such violations will be 
vigorously prosecuted. 

For PROFESSIONAL terms application should 
be made to the publisher's. 

COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY MAUDE FULTON AND LOUIS 
WESLYN, UNDER TITLE OF "TO-MORROW" 

COPYRIGHT, 1928, BY T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 
MADE IN U. S. A. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Cinderella of the Storm (r\ qj H v^ti]} 35202 

DEC26'28 TMpg6 _ CC6446 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

FOR THREE MEN AND FIVE WOMEN 



CHARACTERS 

(In order of their first appearance) 

Enid Fownes Oliver's sister 

Mrs. Helen Quayle Oliver's elderly cousin 

Leslie Quayle Mrs. Quayle' s daughter 

Tilden Derry Leslie's fiance 

Evelyn Hempstead Enid's friend 

Harry Fownes Enid's husband 

Oliver Theophilus Keane, M.A., Ph.D., F.R.A.S.. 

Devoted to science 

May Jessamine Ricketts (Ricky) 

Maid in Enid's home 



Time — Early autumn* 



Place — The neighborhood of the Park Country 
Club. 



Time of Playing — About two and a quarter hours. 



SYNOPSIS OF ACTS 

Act I. Drawing room of the Fownes country 
place. A night in autumn. 

Act II. Living room of Oliver's house on the 
hill. Dawn of the following morning. 

Act III. Same as in Act II, a moment later. No 
intermission between Acts II and III. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 



COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS 

Enid — Aged about twenty-five. She is nervous 
and petulant. Her husband keeps her constantly 
worried by his drinking. She is alternately weepy 
and dignified. Throughout the play, she wears a 
modish evening gown, over which she wraps a man's 
raincoat during Act II. 

Mrs. Quayle — Aged about forty-five. She is a 
snobbish society woman with a decided superiority 
complex. She is the kind that would consider it low- 
ering to her dignity to say, "please" or "thank you" 
to a servant; an egotistical, querulous woman. 
Throughout the play, wears an elaborate evening 
gown. In Act II, she is wrapped in shawls. 

Leslie- — Aged nineteen, though her mother passes 
her as fifteen. Apparently a demure, unsophisticated 
child. She is sweet and lovable until she shows her 
deceitful nature, proving herself a contemptible 
little rotter. Throughout the play, she is daintily 
dressed in a modish evening gown, over which a 
shabby bathrobe is worn in Act II. 

Derry — Aged about thirty, though boyish and 
sprightly. He is devoted to Leslie, to whom he is 
engaged. Wears evening clothes throughout the 
play. 

Evelyn — Typical vamp type, aged about twenty- 
six. She plays up the characteristics of the type for 
nothing else than to keep up her courage, for she 
has long ago found the mistake she made early in 
life and is weary of the whole game. She is sophis- 
ticated, poised, and clever, but her cynicism is largely 
a pose. Throughout the play, she wears a smart 
evening gown, with diamond bracelet and a few other 
jewels, donning a sports coat for Act II. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 



Harry — A typical society rounder, aged about 
thirty. He is perpetually under the influence of 
liquor. The part should not be over-played. In 
Act I, wears evening dress, coat, and top hat. At 
end of Act I, changes to pajamas, and is assisted 
into an overcoat. In Acts II and III, he still wears 
pajamas and overcoat. 

Oliver — A tall young man of about twenty-eight. 
He is a serious student of astronomy, timid, reticent, 
and absent-minded. Silence has become a habit with 
him. The hair at the sides of his head is prema- 
turely gray, and his horn-rimmed spectacles give him 
an owlish appearance. In Act I, wears evening 
clothes, coat, and top hat. In Acts II and III, ex- 
changes evening coat for an old smoking jacket, dis- 
carding hat and retaining rest of costume of Act I. 

Ricky — Aged about seventeen. A quaint and 
charming personality buried under the handicaps of 
hard work and loneliness ; more numbed than dumb. 
She is not afraid to speak her mind when she feels 
it is necessary, but usually she is too tired to care. 
In Act I she wears a simple, old-fashioned dress, but- 
toning up the back but worn hind side to, with white 
cotton stockings and worn black shoes, and a queer, 
though dainty little hat. At her first entrance in 
Act II, the hat is discarded and she dons a man's 
velveteen hunting jacket and man's shoes too large 
for her. Toward end of act, she changes to a plain 
white dress, clumsily made to resemble a robe, also 
white shoes. In Act III, wears same costume, soon 
changing back to dress of Act I, and donning same 
hat for her last entrance. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 



PROPERTIES 

Act I 

Grand piano with bench 

Two sets of glass-enclosed bookshelves 

Writing desk and chair 

Divan 

Two armchairs 

Four straight-backed chairs 

Footstool 

Stone fireplace with mantelshelf 

Logs and red electric bulbs for fire 

Card table 

Telephone 

Box of poker chips in desk drawer 

Cushions for divan and window seat 

Ornaments for mantel 

Table lamp 

Two floor lamps 

Electrolier 

Box of candy 

Playing cards on table 

Pencil and score pad 

Workbag containing knitting 

Book resembling a textbook 

Several coats and sweaters in closet under stairs 

Silk drapes for window 

Scarf for piano 

Two large rugs 

Several small, bright-colored rugs 

Thunder sheet, wind machine, and rain box for 

storm off stage 
Auto horn to honk off stage 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 9 



Acts II and III 

Large, rather shabby library table 

Couch 

Armchair 

Rocking-chair 

Three straight-backed chairs 

Footstool 

Fireplace 

Logs and red electric bulbs for fire 

Clock on mantelpiece 

Traveling case containing hair brush 

Rugs 

Pictures 

Window shade and curtains 

Study lamp with green shade 

Books, papers, and memoranda of various sorts 

on table 
Cigarette case 
Pipe, tobacco, and matches 
Cushions for couch 
Bell to ring for clock, off stage 
Blue cluster lights off stage over window, for 

dawn effect 
Amber cluster lights off stage, for sunrise effect 

For Enid — Wrist watch; slice of bread and but- 
ter; cracked cup filled with tea. 

For Leslie — Diamond engagement ring. 

For Derry — Tray with glass supposed to contain 
a high-ball ; cigarettes in case, and matches. 

For Evelyn — Book; diamond bracelet. 

For Harry — Tray with glasses and bottles; 
pitcher of water. 

For Oliver — Piece of note paper and pencil in 



10 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 



pocket; armful of firewood; watch; handkerchief; 
horn-rimmed spectacles ; gold ring. 

For Ricky — Two hatboxes ; several large bundles ; 
white poodle on a leash ; broom ; mop ; scrub bucket ; 
cup of tea on a saucer ; complete coffee set including 
two cups and saucers, on a tray ; coffeepot filled 
with coffee; white dress and white shoes rolled into 
a bundle. 



SCENE PLOT 
Act I 

INTERIOR BACKING 



QCMAIR 




DOOR TO 
FRONT HALL 



□chair. 

«P\ |OCHA.ff 




RIGHT 



Acts II and III 

INTERIOR- BACKING 




RIGHT 



LEFT 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 11 

STAGE DIRECTIONS 

Up stage means away from footlights ; down stage, 
near footlights. In the use of right and left, the 
actor is supposed to be facing the audience. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 



First Act 
Scene: Drawing room in the Fownes' country 
home. It has four doors: one to the front hall up 
left, a second into the dining room down right, a 
third in the shape of a flight of stairs with a landing, 
up center, leading upstairs, and a door up center 
left leading into a closet under the stairs. A large 
recessed window is in left wall a little down center, 
with a window seat underneath it piled with cushions. 
The room is luxuriously furnished. On each side of 
the window are shelves of books behind glass doors, 
and up left near the hall door is a writing desk, on 
which are a telephone and writing materials. A 
chair is beside the desk. A box of poker chips is 
in its drawer. Down left, well out from the wall, 
stands a grand piano with its bench, and between the 
piano and the wall is an upholstered armchair with 
a footstool in front of it. Against the wall at center 
right is a rough stone fireplace with mantelshelf and 
suitable ornaments, and drawn up in front of it half 
facing the audience is a large divan with cushions. 
On the hearth a fire is burning (red electric bulbs 
under stationary log). Near the divan down right 
is a card table, with three chairs drawn up around 
it: one at right, another at left, and a third behind 
it facing the audience. A similar straight-backed 
chair is up right near the stairs. An upholstered 

13 



14 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

armchair is down extreme right. Handsome rugs are 
on the floor, pictures are on the walls, a fancy scarf 
is draped over the bach of the piano, rich silk drapes 
frame the window, and two or three bright-colored 
rugs hang on the railing of the stair landing up cen- 
ter. In the closet under the stairs are a number of 
sweaters and coats hanging on hooks. A box of 
candy is lying among the cushions of the divan. The 
room is lighted by a central electrolier, a table lamp 
on the writing desk, and two floor lamps — one at left 
of piano and one up right behind divan. All are 
lighted except the desk lamp. The chairs are pushed 
a little back from the card table, which is littered by 
a jumble of playing cards. On the table also are a 
score pad, pencil, a book, and Mrs. Quayke's work- 
bag containing her knitting, with ball and needles. 
It is almost midnight of a stormy night in autumn. 

At rise of curtain, the stage is unoccupied. After 
a short pause, Enid enters at center in evening dress. 
Coming downstairs, she crosses to up left, sits at the 
writing desk, and takes down the telephone receiver. 

Enid. 
{Speaking crossly into mouthpiece.) 
Center 7999. '(Pause's.) Hello! Country Club? 
(Pauses.) This is Mrs. Fownes. Will you page Mr. 
Fownes for me, please? I'll wait. (She taps her 
foot and bites her lip impatiently as she waits.) 
He just left? Thank you. Is there much alarm out 
there over this end-of-the-world scare? (Pauses.) 
I say, is there much alarm over to-morrow? 
(Pauses.) Yes; it is silly; isn't it? Good-bye! 

As Enid hangs up receiver, Mrs. Quayle enters, left. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 15 

Mrs. Quayle. 
{Very sweetly.) 
And has our dear Harry arrived as yet? 

Enid. 
{Crossly.) 
No! He is not at the club. I don't know where 
he is. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
There is no virtue as beautiful as patience, Enid. 
You must learn to be patient with Harry and to re- 
member that he is young and full of spirits. 

Enid. 
Of course he is. That is why he didn't come home 
for dinner. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
Do you mean to say that he indulges in intoxi- 
cants ? 

Enid. 
He swims in the stuff — plain stroke, Australian 
crawl, and fancy diving. And he can stay under for 
hours. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
But where does he obtain it these days? 

Enid. 
I don't know, and I don't care. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
Oh, oh! Such a sweet boy! 

Enid. 
He is nothing of the kind! He's a drunkard and 



16 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

a rounder, and if men hadn't been scarce the year I 
came out, you may be sure I'd never have chased 
around after him with a net. {Throws herself petu- 
lantly on the divan.) I hate all of them — the beasts ! 
They haven't a thought beyond the filling of their 
stomachs. {Selects a bonbon from the candy box 
lying on the divan and eats it.) If I had my way, 
I'd wipe every one of them from the face of the earth, 
and should there be anything in this to-morrow busi- 
ness, I hope that is just what happens to them. Serve 
them jolly well right! 

Mrs. Quayle. 
{Remonstrating gently.) 
Who would pay your bills then? 

Enid. 
I wouldn't have any. Don't you see? If all the 
men were done away with, there would be no more 
silly bookkeeping going on in the shops, and I'd buy 
what I pleased. 



What with? 



Mrs. Quayle. 



Enid. 
Good heavens, Helen! You are as bad as Oliver. 
{Turns her back on Mrs. Quayle.) 

(Mrs. Quayle takes her workbag from the card 
table and seating herself on divan beside Enid, gets 
knitting from bag and begins to work.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 
There is one word in the English language that 
does not fit Oliver, Enid, and that word is "bad." 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 17 

Enid. 
(Sighing.) 
It's rather a pity; isn't it? He would be so much 
more interesting. As it is, he bores me to extinction 
with his everlasting figures about stars and moons 
and suns and all that rot ! My word ! The gas and 
electric bills are bother enough. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
I am extremely fond of Oliver, yet I remember 
that he was never particularly bright ; and I fail to 
understand why and how he managed to go through 
one university after another and win degrees in all 
of them. 

(A faint rumble of thunder is heard. ) 



There it is! 
What? 



Enid. 
( Rising agita tedly. ) 

Mrs. Quayle. 



Enid. 
The storm ! The newspapers predicted a storm at 
midnight and then the end of the world at six o'clock 
to-morrow morning. Some old fool of a scientist 
claims that a planet has got loose and is kicking up 
no end of a row. How annoying! 

Mrs. Quayle. 
My own life is perfectly blameless, but it might be 
in good taste to offer up a few short prayers. 

Enid. 
Don't be absurd! The telephone operator of the 



18 CINDER ELLA OF THE STORM 

Park Club assured me that there was not the slight- 
est danger. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
Shall we get hold of Oliver and make sure? 

Enid. 
What could Oliver do but poke a stupid telescope 
at the thing? For myself, I shall ignore it utterly. 
(She crosses to window, up right. There is another 
rumble of thunder slightly louder than the first.) 
Evelyn will adore this. She loves bizarre things. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Sweetly.) 
I do not like to criticize your guests, Enid. You 
know how broad-minded I am. But Evelyn Hemp- 
stead is fast becoming impossible. This house seems 
to be the only social refuge she has left, and if you 
do not wish to be classed with her you should not 
invite her. 



Enid. 



I didn't. 



Mrs. Quayle. 
Oh, oh ! How forward of her ! 

(A patter of rain is heard on the roof. Enid turns 
an anxious face to Mrs. Quayle.) 

Enid. 
Do you suppose that crazy old astronomer could 
possibly be right? It is midnight, or nearly so, and 
here is his ridiculous storm just as he said! (Mrs. 
Quayle puts her knitting on table and rising, joins 
Enid at the window. A flash of lightning causes her 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 19 

to dodge back hastily.) You see! Even you are 
afraid. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
The pure of heart need fear nothing, but there are 
two things I never fancied : boiled cabbage and light- 
ning. (She returns to the fireplace and reseats her- 
self.) 

Leslie and Derry enter at right. 

Derry. 
(Cheerfully.) 
The river is rising. 

Enid. 
(Alarmed.) 
That frightens me more than the storm does. 

Derry. 
Why? (Goes up to fireplace with Leslie.) 

Enid. 
We are quite low here, not quite two feet above the 
water level, and if the river rises it won't be safe to 
stay. I do wish Harry would come. 

Derry. 
I don't believe Harry has any more influence with 
the river than we have. 

Enid. 
Suppose we should be flooded out? Swept away? 
Had we better start making rafts and things? 

Derry. 
If we have to swim for shore, I can manage you 
one at a time while Harry saves the wine cellar. 



20 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Enid. 
(Beginning to sniffle.) 
You can be sure he wouldn't think of me or my 
poor little dog! He'll pay no attention to us. He 
never does. Even when he is home, he spends every 
moment he has down in the cellar puttering around 
some horrid old contrivance that gives out a per- 
fectly atrocious smell. 

Derry. 
(Laughing heartily.) 
By Jove ! I'll bet a dollar it's a still. 

Enid. 
(Startled.) 
What ! I am going right downstairs this instant 
and find out if that is what he is doing. 

Leslie. 
How can you tell, Enid? 

Enid. 
(Weakly.) 
I don't know. Besides, he keeps the door locked. 
(She bursts into tears.) Wretch! 

Mrs. Quayle. 

(Smoothly.) 

Now, now, Enid! Have you forgotten so quickly 

what I told you about having patience? Harry is 

your husband. You must overlook this boyish prank 

of his. His nature was ever a playful one. 

Enid. 
(Weeping.) 
Playful, indeed! He does everything he can to 
make me miserable. He conceals everything from 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 21 

me! Everything! His actions, his thoughts, all the 
little sacred things a husband and wife should share. 
And this is the last straw. He makes whisky, and 
he doesn't even show me how ! (She turns up center.) 
I shall be down directly when I have conquered this 
headache. I can stand just so much and then — 
(Her voice breaks, and with a sob she goes on up the 
stairway and exit upstairs.) 

Derry. 
Poor old kid! She has had a hell of a life with 
Harry. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Shocked.) 
My dear boy! (Rises and goes up center to 
stairs.) 

Derry. 
(Remorsefully.) 
I'm sorry. 

Mrs. Quayle goes up the stairway, passing 
Evelyn, who is on her way down. Evelyn is hum- 
ming a gay French song. Mrs. Quayle glares at 
her, and draws aside. Evelyn smiles her sweetest, 
but when Mrs. Quayle turns her back and disap- 
pears upstairs, she makes a little grimace, shrugs, 
and comes jauntily down to the fireplace. Leslie 
and Derry, who have been holding hands, unclasp 
fingers at her approach. 

Evelyn. 
(Airily.) 
Got a cigarette, Tilly? 

(Derry takes cigarette case from his pocket and 



22 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

offers it to her. She takes a cigarette, and he lights 
it for her.) 

Derry. 
Where do you want to sit — or do you? 

Evelyn. 
I don't. I prefer corns to a large waist. If you 
knew what we vampires have to suffer ! 

Leslie. 
{Sweetly, to Evelyn.) 
I thought vampires were such dreadful people, and 
you seem rather nice. 

Evelyn. 

Thank you ! As a matter of fact, I am not nice 
at all. I smoke, gamble, paint, and flirt. No home is 
completely broken up without me. Ask Till. 

Leslie. 
(Turning to Derry suspiciously.) 
Has she been after you, too? 

(Both Evelyn and Derry laugh heartily.) 

Evelyn. 
(Cheerfully.) 
Bless your heart, no ! I have no charms for Till ! 
You see, he knows me. Till, if you will insist on 
standing up, get me a drink. 

Derry. 

Sure thing! What kind? 

Evelyn. 
Any kind that's deadly. And put lots of fun 
into it. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 23 

Derry. 
(Crosses up to right door and turns in doorway, ad- 
dressing Leslie.) 
You won't mind, honey, if I have one, too? 

Leslie. 
(Brightening.) 
And I'll have one ! 

Derry. 
(Hesitatingly.) 
Let's wait awhile. Shall we? I'm not really 
thirsty. (Exit at right.) 

Evelyn. 
How stupid it is to be in love ! I suppose you are? 

Leslie. 
Oh, yes, very much. Till adores me. (Sits on 
divan. ) 

Evelyn. 
And you? Are you in love? 

Leslie. 

(Demurely.) 

I suppose so, although I'm too young to know a 

great deal about it. Mamma is so strict with me 

that I might as well be in a convent. Isn't Till a 

dear? 

Evelyn. 
(Slouching into chair bach of card table, half facing 
fireplace. ) 
Uh-huh! (Meaning "yes. ) 

Leslie. 
And so good-looking! 



24 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Evelyn. 
( Yawning. ) 
Isn't he? 

Leslie. 
(Sharply.) 
I hope I'm not boring you. 

Evelyn. 
(Laughing.) 

Certainly you are. It's just my luck to have to 
listen, hour after hour, to newly engaged couples, 
and of course you're that. 

Leslie. 
(Puzzled.) 
What? 

Evelyn. 
I say, of course you're engaged. 

Leslie. 
(Demurely.) 

Yes ! How did you know ? 

Evelyn. 
I didn't until you told me. 

Leslie. 
(Admiringly.) 
How clever you are ! Mamma doesn't like you in 
the least, but I do. I really do. 

Evelyn. 
(Laughing.) 
Don't say that in front of Till. He doesn't ap- 
prove of me any more than the Leviathan does. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 25 

Leslie. 
The what? 

Evelyn. 
(Carelessly.) 
That's what I've named your mother. Nice old 
party, though. 

Leslie. 
(Giggling.) 
You are terrible ! If mamma ever heard you call 
her the Leviathan, she'd promptly kill you. 

Evelyn. 
(Rising.) 
She couldn't hurt me. Nobody can. (Comes to 
window at left.) 

Leslie. 
I can't endure the thought of to-morrow and the 
world coming to an end, because I've just got the 
sweetest gown from Lucille's. All full of tiny rose- 
buds, and perfectly darling on me ! I mean to wear 
it Tuesday if we're not dead. 

Evelyn. 
No such luck. 

Leslie. 
You say that because your life is practically 
through. (Evelyn looks at her sharply.) But I'm 
young ! I'm only nineteen, and you must be at least 
thirty. 

Evelyn. 
(Sighing.) 
Yes. I'm failing fast. 



26 CI N DERELLA OF THE STORM 

Enter Derby at right, with a high-ball on a tray. 
As he goes up to fireplace, a slight patter of rain is 
heard. 

Evelyn. 
It looks as if we might have rather a wet Judgment 
Day. How disgusting! I shall have to marcel my 
hair again. 

Leslie. 
Let Ricky do it. 

Evelyn. 
One maid to four women. Can you imagine it, 
Till? (Comes to fireplace and takes glass from tray, 
which Derry deposits on the mantel.) Poor little 
devil ! 

Leslie. 
She's frightfully stupid, and so slow about helping 
me dress that I could scream sometimes. 

Evelyn. 
Perhaps she could, too. (She raises her glass.) 
Bonheur, mes enfant si (Drinks with relish.) 



Strong enough? 
Heavenly ! 



Derry. 
Evelyn. 



Leslie. 
(Enviously.) 
I don't see why I'm not allowed any fun! 

Derry. 
Honey, it isn't good for little girls. 



CINDER ELLA OF THE STORM 27 

Leslie. 
I'm sick of being held down and forbidden to do 
things, and when I'm married I shall do as I please, 
so I shall. 

Derry. 
{Soberly.) 
But you wouldn't deliberately go against my 
wishes; would you? I'm older and I know what is 
best for you. Won't you take my word for it? 

Leslie. 
{Lisping.) 
Of course, silly! 

{He picks up her hand and kisses it affectionately.) 

Evelyn. 
{Casually, to the pair.) 
Would you rather I vanished into thin air? 

Leslie. 
Oh, don't go ! You are so amusing ! 

{There is a rumble of thunder as the storm grows.) 

Derry. 
Poor old Harry will be soaked! 

Evelyn. 
If you must bring up unpleasant subjects, do try 
to present them in a new light. I loathe bromides. 

Leslie. 

{Giggling.) 

I saw some on your dressing table only to-day. 



28 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Evelyn. 
(Carelessly.) 
I hope you didn't sample them, dearie. There was 
just enough left for another night's sleep. 

Derry. 
Aren't you going it a bit heavy, old girl? 

Evelyn. 
(Plaintively.) 

I'm doing my best, but a fast reputation is so 
hard to live up to, once you've got it safely estab- 
lished ! Being just bad doesn't get you anywhere 
socially. You've got to be entertainingly bad; and 
you have no idea what technique it requires. 

, Leslie. 
(Delightedly.) 
Till! Isn't she delicious? 

Derry. 
( Disapprovingly. ) 
That is hardly the thing to say, Eve, before a 
young girl. 

Evelyn. 
She must learn values some time. Mayn't I be the 
terrible example? Who knows but what I shall 
eventually commit suicide in a perfectly fascinating 
manner and point the moral? 

Derry. 
(Gravely.) 
Am I supposed to laugh at that? 

Evelyn. 
(In a gale of laughter.) 
My dear Till ! You are so gorgeously serious ! 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 29 

Why not laugh? Isn't life one long delirious chuckle 
from start to finish? (There is a noise off left as if 
a motor were driving up.) If that is Harry, I do 
hope he isn't alone. I haven't made eyes at a man 
for two days. 

Leslie. 
Mr. Fownes wouldn't object if you practiced on 
him. 

Evelyn. 
I said "man," darling! 

Leslie. 

{To Derry.) 

Well, you can't have my Till. Can she, lovey? 

Derry. 

(Grinning.) 

She turned me down once. Isn't that enough? 

Leslie. 
(Startled.) 
She did! When? 

Derry. 
(Still laughing.) 
When was it, Eve? About six years ago? 

Evelyn. 
( Yawning. ) 
Mercy ! Don't expect me to remember every little 
thing that happens. 

Enter Harry Fownes, up left. He is mildly intoxi- 
cated and speaks thickly. 



30 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Harry. 

Hail ! Hail ! Gang's all here ! 

Derry. 
Hello, there ! 

Harry. 
( With an air of secrecy. ) 
Sh! I brought you somepin' pretty. (He mo- 
tions off stage.) Come on in, ol' kid! Nobody's 
goin' bite you. 

Oliver Keane enters at left, in evening clothes and 
pauses diffidently near door. 

Harry. 
(Waving his hand toward Oliver.) 
Ain't it pretty? 

Evelyn. 
Oliver Theophilus Keane ! Come here this minute ! 

Oliver. 

(Stiffly.) 

How do you do? (Comes down stage and is about 

to sit on divan with Leslie, when Derry puts out his 

hand in greeting. Oliver absently gives him his 

coat and hat and reaches in his pocket for a tip.) 

Derry. 
You haven't forgotten me, Keane? 

Oliver. 
(Peering at him.) 
Most assuredly not. Though it escapes me who 
you are. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 31 

Derry. 
Derry! Till Derry! 

Oliver. 
Ah, yes ! (He sits beside Leslie without seeing 
her. Derry laughingly takes his coat and throws it 
on piano.) 

Derry. 
You are something of a stranger, Keane. Where 
did you find him, Harry? 

Harry. 
He found me. Didn't you, oP kid? Walked right 
into the club, and there I was. The world's very 
small place. I'll get you 'nother drink, Ollie. (He 
crosses to right door.) 

Evelyn. 
(Laughingly, to Oliver.) 
You! Drinking with Harry at the club? 

Oliver. 

(Starting from a reverie.) 

To be sure. Yes. It — it occurred to me rather 

forcibly that I had been remiss in my duties toward 

Harry and toward my sister Enid, and I resolved to 

devote my last day to them. 

Leslie. 
Going away, Cousin Oliver? When? 

Oliver. 
To-morrow ! 

Leslie. 
Where ? 



32 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Oliver. 
I do not know. 

Harry. 
{Standing in right doorway.) 
By thunder! That's right. He's got somepin' to 
tell you. Tell 'em about Cupid, Ollie. 

Oliver. 
(Blankly.) 
Cupid? 

Harry. 
Yeh. That's the l'il' guy. (Exit at right.) 

Evelyn. 
(Sitting, back of card table.) 
This is going to be interesting. So you are in love 
at last? 

Oliver. 
(Startled.) 
I? This is rather confusing. I — I feel — 

Evelyn. 
Of course you do. It's quite natural. 

Oliver. 
I feel sure that Harry is referring to Eros. Yes. 
In all likelihood it is Eros. 

Evelyn. 
A pretty name. Who is she? 

Oliver. 
Eros is a star. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 33 

Leslie. 
{Excitedly.) 
On the stage? How wonderful! Do tell us more 
about her, Cousin Oliver. 

Evelyn. 
Is she young or old? 

Oliver. 
Quite old. Perhaps many millions of years. Eros 
is really a planet. 

Evelyn. 
I am faint from the shock. May we hear more? 

Oliver. 
(Brightening.) 
I shall be most happy to give you the details — 
that is, if figures appeal to you. 

Evelyn. 
(Yawning.) 
Indeed they do. I am thrilled to heaven over them. 

Derry. 
(To Oliver.) 
Have you seen those crazy articles in the news- 
papers? That end-of-the-world stuff? 

Oliver. 
Yes. 

Derry. 
What do you know about them? 

Oliver. 
I wrote them. 

(There is a general exclamation,) 



34 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Evelyn. 

{Cynically.} 

Come now! You don't really believe it? 'Fess up ! 

You've been a hermit so long that you simply had to 

step out into the limelight for a moment and get some 

attention. 

Oliver. 
(Bewildered.) 
My dear lady, I merely told them I saw a planet 
speeding at the rate of two hundred miles a second 
toward the neighborhood of Mars and its two moons, 
also the eclipse of the earth by this planet Eros, 
to-morrow morning at six o'clock. 

Leslie. 
(With a slight scream.) 
What is going to happen? 

Oliver. 
That will depend upon whether Mars will attract 
Eros or whether we, by reason of our closer prox- 
imity, will draw the planet in upon us. There is no 
doubt of the latter event. 

Derry. 
I say ! You know that is a bit serious ! 

Evelyn. 
Jolly little idea, isn't it? Where is Eros? 

Oliver. 
It is not visible, because of electrical disturbances. 

Derry. 
Would you mind explaining it technically to us? 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 35 

Oliver. 
Delighted to do so. (He rises and stands before 
the fireplace, clearing his throat and joining his 
fingertips after the manner of a professor in a class- 
room.) The minor planet Eros, hitherto charted, 
and erroneously so, as an asteroid, rotating ellip- 
tically in an elongated orbit which, at its aphelion, 
touches a suppositious point, basing the figures of 
the problem on the given mean equatorial long hori- 
zontal solar parallax, directly — 

Evelyn. 
(Interrupting. ) 
Oh, do tell us what a parallax is. I've never seen 
one. 

Oliver. 
A parallax has to do with the change produced in 
the apparent place of an object when viewed from 
a point other than that of reference. 

Evelyn. 
No wonder they are so rare ! (In pantomime bor- 
rows another cigarette and match of Derry.) 

Oliver. 
(Resuming.) 
The sidereal system is complicated and varied in 
structure and in the same region of the stellar depths 
coexist stars of — 

Leslie. 
(Interrupting. ) 
But, Cousin Oliver, we want to know what is go- 
ing to become of us if the crazy old thing hits us ! 

Oliver. 
At the moment of collision the temperature of the 



36 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

colliding bodies will be raised thousands of degrees, 
and we shall expand into a huge mass of thin gas 
which will gradually cool and assume the form of a 
rotating spiral nebula. 

Evelyn. 
( Rising. ) 
I shall loathe being a nebula, especially a spiral 
one. Thanks, Oliver. I'll leave you now and look in 
on Enid. (She pauses to light her cigarette.) 

Derry. 
You are quite right, of course. 

Oliver. 
Can reason itself, apart from scientific figures, of- 
fer you anything in the way of proper proof? 

Enter Harry at right, carrying tray of glasses and 
bottles. 

Harry. 
Got it right here, Ollie. Best stuff y' ever tasted. 

Evelyn. 
(To Leslie.) 
Shall we go over our wardrobes for some light 
milky-way costumes? (Leslie joins her and they go 
up center to foot of stairs.) 

Harry. 

(Clinking the glasses on tray.) 

Looky what Santa Claus brought you, girls. Ain't 

it pretty? (They start past without answering.) 

Come on back and join li'l' Maypole dance. You're 

good fellah, Eve, Wha'sa matter with you? , 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 37 

Evelyn. 
We must run up and see how Enid is. 

Harry. 
{Blankly.) 
Enid! 

Leslie. 
Your wife, Harry. {Exit Leslie upstairs. 
Evelyn goes as far as the first step and pauses.) 

Harry. 
{Chuckling.) 
Tha's one on me ! By thunder ! Tha's about the 
richest thing I ever said. Forgot my wife's name ! 
{He tries to concentrate. The tray begins to tip.) 
Wait ! There was somepin' else I had to remem — 
remember. What was it? Very 'mportant ! (Derry 
goes up, takes the tray away from Harry, and comes 
back with it to piano. Evelyn laughs and goes on 
upstairs, leaving Harry deep in thought. He ad- 
dresses the spot she has just left.) Eve, tha's too 
bad. Can't — {He looks around for her.) Acts 
like a damn ghost ! Try to carry on a polite conv'sa- 
tion with her, and she ain't where she ought to be. 
Tha's bad manners. {Comes down stage. Demands 
of Oliver in a roar.) Ain't it? 

Oliver. 
I beg pardon? 

Harry. 

I said, "Ain't it?" 

Oliver. 
Isn't what? 



38 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Harry. 
{Fretfully.) 
I don't know. Got me all mixed now. {He slaps 
Oliver on the back. Addresses Derry, who is mix- 
ing a couple of drinks at the piano.) Funny Til' 
fellah, ain't he? 

Derry. 
( Good-humoredly. ) 
High-ball, Keane? 

Harry. 
Sure ! We spent whole af noon lappin' 'em up. 
Didn't we, ol' kid? 

Oliver. 
You may not have noticed, but I was drinking 
Apollinaris. 

Harry. 
{Astounded.) 
What ! D'you mean to say you swallowed all that 
stuff, and it didn't make you sick? 

(Derry pours a glass and hands it to Oliver, who 
reseats himself on divan.) 

Oliver. 
I feel quite normal, thank you. 

Harry. 
Can you beat that? All that water! {He tries 
to concentrate.) Wait! 'Bout to remember — very 
'mportant thing — Oh, rats! What's difference? 
Here's how. {Raises his glass, and they drink.) 

Derry. 
{Gasping.) 
Holy smoke! 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 39 

Harry. 
(Delighted.) 
Ain't it great stuff? 

Oliver. 
May I ask what it is? 

Derry. 
I'm darned if I know. What is it, Harry? 

(All set empty glasses on piano.) 

Harry. 
(Mysteriously.) 
Sh! (He tiptoes to right door, turns the key and 
comes back.) Made it myself! Right downstairs in 
my own cellar! Got a still big 'nough to turn out 
coupla quarts a day. Didn't know y'r l'il' brother 
is a moonshiner; did you, Ollie? Ollie's astronomer. 
I'm moonshiner. Tha's pretty good. Let's have 
game of stud poker. (He clears the card table by 
brushing everything off it in one sweep; then crosses 
to writing desk and rummages in drawer.) 

Derry. 
(To Oliver.) 
Do you play? 

Oliver. 
I have never played at anything. 

Derry. 
(To Harry.) 
Don't get the chips. We can't have a game, with 
only two of us. 

Oliver. 
(Trying to be congenial.) 
While it is true I do not know poker, still I shall 



40 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

be very glad to keep the score or mark the various 
moves as they occur. (Looks around him for a pen- 
cil and paper.) 

Harry. 
Tha's right ! Every time I say, "What have you 
got?" you give me ten points. 

Derry. 
Don't be a chump, Harry. We can't play — just 
you and I. 

Harry. 
(Coming down to piano with the box of chips, he 
draws Derry aside and speaks in a loud whisper.) 
Sh ! Show the ol' kid a good time. 

Oliver. 
(As he picks up pencil and score pad from floor, he 
■finds a book, which he examines.) 
This is extraordinary ! My first school book on 
astronomy! Do you mind if I take it with me? 

Harry. 
(Arranging card table.) 
Take anything in the house. D'you like dogs? 
(Confidentially.) There's a white one upstairs that 
barks at you with a fuzzy tail that I don't. 

Oliver. 
(Puzzled.) 
I beg pardon? 

Harry. 

(Sitting at table.) 
Don't apologize, ol' kid. Le's go. (Derry also 
sits. Harry sets out poker chips in stacks on table 
and deals the cards. Oliver, book in hand, looks 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 41 

on.) Now look what I got here, Ollie: a king and 
a queen. Better put that down. 

Oliver. 
(Writing on score pad.) 
Two members of royalty. 

Harry. 
(Pointing to Derry's cards.) 
He's got an ace, and I can't see what else. Under- 
stand ? 

Oliver. 
(Writing.) 
Visible, a small one-spot. Let X represent the 
unknown quantity. 

Harry. 
(Roaring with laughter, to Derry.) 
Can you beat that? Picks it up right away. 

(He and Derry bet, and Harry deals another card.) 

Oliver. 
What relation have the colored disks to the game? 
(Indicates poker chips.) 

Derry. 
They are to bet with. (He bets again, and so 
does Harry.) 

Harry. 
(To Oliver.) 
A bean is ventured. 

Derry. 
(As Harry deals him another card.) 
Aha ! Another little ace. Going up ! 



42 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Harry. 

Y'see, Ollie, he raises me, and I'm going to raise 
him. 

Oliver. 
(Writing.) 
Both players arrive at an equal altitude. 

Harry. 
(Dealing.) 
By thunder ! We got our third queen, Ollie. Look 
at that ! We'll skin him alive. 

Oliver. 
(Writing.) 
Desperate measures resolved upon. 

Derry. 

(Laughing.) 

How do you know what I've got tucked away? 

Harry. 

(To Oliver.) 

Did you hear that? He's keeping somepin' from 

us. (He bets.) Bet you ain't got it. (Derry bets. 

Harry bets again.) Once more. Now watch, Ollie. 

I'm betting him he ain't got another ace. See? 

Oliver. 
But if he is quite certain that he has it, why specu- 
late? 

Harry. 

(Putting down his cards solemnly.) 

That is the point, Ollie. That's what I've been 

leading up to all the time. Wait till I get 'nother 

drink, and I'll explain the whole thing in all its 

pristine beauty. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 43 

(As he rises, a rumble of thunder is heard.) 

Derry. 

(Turning over a card.) 

I did have it. Your three queens were no good. 

Harry. 
I wouldn't put that down, Ollie. No use to give 
the Bolsheviks somepin' else to talk about. (Pours 
a drink.) 

Oliver. 
( Writing. ) 
Closing commentary edited. See footnote. 

Derry. 
(To Harry.) 
Don't drink any more of that stuff. It's got a 
terrible wallop. 

(There is a sudden flash of lightning from off left.) 

Harry. 

(Who has taken a swallow just as the lightning 
flashed, now takes the glass from lips, alarmed.) 
I sh'd say it has ! Didn't know it was that strong. 

(He sits on divan, anxiously feeling his head.) 

Oliver. 
(Tears page from tablet, folding the slip of paper 
and handing it to Derry.) 
You may wish to keep the official report of the 
game. 

Derry. 
We were just fooling. That wasn't poker. 



44 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Oliver. 
(Puzzled.) 
You were not in earnest? 

Derry. 
Harry knew you didn't have any idea of it, so he 
thought he'd have some fun with you. Wasn't that 
it, Hal? 

Harry. 
(Drowsily.) 
Huh? Wha'sa matter? 

Derry. 
(Rather embarrassed. ) 
I tell Keane we were only stringing him. 

Oliver. 
(Hurt.) 
I see. (He retires into his book.) 

Harry. 
(Mumbling.) 
Give him a good time, poor ol' kid ! Poor ol' stick- 
in-the-mud! (Closes his eyes.) 

Evelyn comes downstairs, center, and pauses on 
landing. 

Evelyn. 
(Leaning over the railing.) 
Harry ! Enid wants you ! 

Harry. 
(Rousing.) 
Let her wait outside. Very busy dictatin' 'mpor- 
tant letter. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 45 

Evelyn. 

(To Derry.) 

Make him come up. Enid is all shot to pieces. 

Harry. 
(Struggling up, terrified.) 
My God! What a terrible tragedy! (He clings 
to Derry, who assists him up stage.) 

Oliver. 
(Rising.) 
May I see her for a moment? I just want to say 
good-bye. 

Evelyn. 
I wouldn't bother her if I were you, Oliver. She 
knows you're here, and she doesn't care to talk to 
anyone. 

Harry. 
(As he and Derry go up to stairs.) 
Tell me one thing. Was she happy to the very 
last? 

Evelyn. 
(Sharply.) 
You ought to know whether she was happy or not. 

Harry. 
Tha's good. At least I'll have that to r'member. 
Wait! I mustn't forget — What is it I mustn't 
forget? 

Derry. 
(Urging him up the steps.) 
Buck up, old sport! 



46 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Harry. 
(Pausing on landing.) 
If you're going the same way I am, f'r heaven's 
sake, walk straight. This ain't a two-step. 

Evelyn follows them, and all three exeunt up- 
stairs. Oliver's book slips from his hand to the rug. 
He stares into the fire absently. Then he crosses 
to the piano for his hat and coat and goes to left 
door, reaching it as Evelyn comes down the stairs. 

Evelyn. 
Please stay ! 

Oliver. 
(Awkwardly.) 
It is nice of you to say that. I believe it is the 
first time I have ever heard it. 

Evelyn. 
Surely not! 

Oliver. 
No one, as a rule, seems particularly to notice 
whether I am here or — that is to say — there. (He 
attempts to laugh.) 

Evelyn. 

(Rather touched.) 

A man as interesting as you, Oliver Theophilus? 

Oliver. 
I — I wish I could reply to that flattering state- 
ment with a bit of light banter. Any other — er — 
man — would doubtless think quickly and seize upon 
some trifling persiflage as — as charming as the orig- 
inal remark, which had the basic qualities of both 
grace and kindliness. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 47 

Evelyn. 
(Choking with laughter.) 
Oliver ! Do you know that you are perfectly ridic- 
ulous ? 

Oliver. 
(Slowly.) 
Yes. I know it. Good night! 

(He bows precisely and opens the door up left. 
There is a crash of thunder, and a streak of lightning 
shows outside. He closes the door.) 

Evelyn. 

(Anxiously.) 

Open it again. I believe I saw — (He reopens 

the door for an instant and again closes it. Evelyn 

clutches his arm.) Look! Nothing but water. It's 

up to the steps. 

Oliver. 
Quite true! Shall we notify the others? 

Evelyn. 
(Sharply.) 
Of course! (Runs to foot of stairway and calls 
upstairs.) Till! Till! Come here! (She speaks 
to Oliver.) The river is rising! There must have 
been storms north of us that we knew nothing about. 
Did you know? 

Oliver. 
I predicted them. 

Evelyn. 
Why didn't you ring up and tell us that we were 
in danger? 



48 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Oliver. 
I telephoned yesterday. 

Evelyn. 
Enid said nothing of it. 

Oliver. 
She was in the midst of a game of bridge and would 
not listen. 

Derry comes running downstairs, center, 

Derry. 
What's the row? 

Evelyn. 
Open the door a crack, and you'll see. 

Derry. 
(Opening door at left a little, whistles in astonish- 
ment.) 
We're being flooded out, by Jove! 

Evelyn. 
What shall we do? We've got to do something 
quickly. 

Derry. 
(Still peering through crack in door.) 
It's almost to the hub of the car, Eve. 

Evelyn. 
The car! That's it. We'll get away in the car 
and go some place. But where? The hotel is closed 
for the season, and everyone has gone back to town. 
Where can we go? 

Oliver. 
I have a home on the top of the hill. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 49 

Evelyn. 
Can we get to it in a car? 

Oliver. 
You may have to climb the last stretch of road on 
foot. 

Evelyn. 
I'd rather climb than swim. (She starts for the 
stairs and turns.) It's good of you to take us un- 
der your wing, Oliver. Have you room for seven 
people? Although it doesn't matter. Nothing mat- 
ters if we only get on some sort of dry land again. 
I'll sound the alarm. (Exit, up the stairs.) 

(Derry opens door of closet under the stairs and 
begins to pull out a pile of sweaters and coats. The 
storm grows in violence.) 

Derry. 
What a rum thing to happen ! Makes you almost 
believe the stuff about to-morrow. (Pauses, then 
turns to Oliver.) I say! Suppose that crazy planet 
of yours struck the moon first. Would that give us 
a chance to get our affairs straightened up and inter- 
view a preacher or two? 

Oliver. 
(Gravely.) 
Let us see. (He goes to fireplace, sits, and begins 
to figure on a sheet of paper, which he takes from 
his pocket.) 

Derry. 
I would like time enough to make a few good reso- 
lutions even if I broke 'em later. 



50 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Oliver. 
I think I can fully reassure you on that point. 
You would have, judging from these hasty figures, 
three hours and nineteen minutes. 

Derry. 
(Disgustedly.) 
Huh ! Not long enough to get a manicure. 

Oliver. 
On the other hand, in event that the planet Mars 
attracts Eros before the impact drives them both 
toward us it is probable you would have — shall we 
say — (He breaks off, absorbed in his figures.) 

Mrs. Quayle and Leslie run down the stairs, fol- 
lowed more slowly by Enid and Evelyn. Derry 
hands each of them a garment from the pile he has 
brought from the closet, and they hastily wrap them- 
selves up. 

Enid. 
(Briskly,) 
Are we all here? Where is Harry? 

Harry stumbles downstairs in pajamas. He pauses 
on landing. 

Harry. 
Up, men. The dam has burst! 

Enid. 
Shut up, dearest, and get down here. 

Harry. 
(Pained and surprised.) 
Did that sound come from my little wifie? 



CIN DERELLA OF THE STORM 51 

Enid. 
(Exasperated.) 
Hurry ! Do you want me to go up there after you, 
my darling? 

Harry. 
(Humbly.) 
No, sweetheart! (He comes on down the stairs, 
and Enid bundles him impatiently into an overcoat 
which she takes from Derry.) 

Derry. 
Everybody ready? 

Evelyn. 
(Pointing to the absorbed Oliver.) 
We must not forget our host. 

Enid. 
(Sharply.) 
Oliver ! Are you so unfeeling that you can sit 
there and say nothing? 

Oliver. 
(Rising hastily.) 
Er — quite extraordinary weather, isn't it? 

(The lights suddenly go out, leaving only the fire- 
place glow. There are startled exclamations from 
all.) 

Derry. 
We are just in time. That shows the cellar is 
flooding. Let's make a dash for it. 

Harry. 
Wait ! I mustn't forget something about the cel- 
lar. Very important. 



52 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Enid. 
Idiot! Open the door, Till! 

(Derry opens door up left. A howl of wind greets 
them, and there is an amazing peal of thunder. All 
seven rush out, and the gale sweeps the door shut be- 
hind them with a bang. There are an excited gabble 
of voices off lefty the honking of an auto horn, then 
silence. ) 

Enter Ricky, center, with her hat over one ear, 
where she has thrust it in her fright and haste. She 
comes down the stairway slowly and with difficulty, 
owing to an enormous load of bundles, bandboxes, 
and a ridiculous poodle which she has on a leash. 
On the last step she trips slightly and says under her 
breath, "Damn dog!" Once down, she rests her 
bundles on the newel post and looks about the room. 

Ricky. 
(In a small, timid voice.) 
Mis' Fownes? (She piles the things in a heap, 
leaves the dog, and comes down, looking about.) 
Mis' — ? (The silence makes her uneasy, and she 
repeats the name loudly and hoarsely.) Mis' 
Fownes ! (Realizing she has been left behind, she 
runs to left door arid opens it. The sight and sound 
of the storm terrify her. She closes the door and 
leans against it, trembling.) My goodness! Oh, my 
goodness! What'll I do? (She begins to wail, 
mingling broken sentences with her sobs.) They 
didn't wait fer me ! That ain't right. It ain't right ! 
I never done anything to them. I got f-feelings, too, 
same as they have, but they don't care ! Makes me 
s-sick ! (Her sobs having gradually spent them- 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 53 

selves, she relapses into apathetic weariness with 
an occasional sniffle of indignation. She turns back 
into the room and, her eye lighting on the poodle, 
she addresses him.) Lookit what they done to you, 
Leo. I guess you won't be so stuck up, after this. 
You always treated me like I was dirt under your 
feet, when if 3^ou'd acted like a lady maybe you 
wouldn't be so sore at yourself now. See? That's 
what you get ! Yes, sir ! Now it's my turn, and 
I'm going to cut you dead. (She xvanders about the 
room aimlessly. As if to keep up her courage, she 
whistles a few notes. The sound causes her to jump 
and look behind her. She goes to fireplace and 
stretches her arms in an exhausted yawn.) I guess 
it must be pret' near to-morrow. (The significance 
of it strikes her, and she repeats the word apprehen- 
sively.) To-morrow! (She looks thoughtfully at 
the poodle.) You and me better make it up, Leo, 
before the horn blows. What say? If you won't 
mention to nobody about the time I slapped you, I 
won't give you away, either. You know what I 
mean ! You do so. Come here and get warm. (She 
goes up and gets the poodle and returns to the fire- 
place, curling up on the rug with it in her lap.) 
Why can't we be friends like this all the time? 
Wouldn't you rather? I'd rather have a kind word 
fer you than to chase all over heaven, roasting the 
tar out of you. Then why wasn't you nice to me? 
There's lots of evenings we might have had together 
when none of us would have been lonesome, especially 
me. I know fairy stories about doggies and kitties, 
and how they chased each other and both got et up, 
and the New Testament, and "Curfew shall not ring 
to-night." I don't guess you would understand the 



54 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

New Testament, though. It's pretty deep in spots. 
(She gazes into the fire awhile.) I wonder what God 
will look like? He'll be big and tall, and he'll have 
whiskers — long white whiskers, because he's getting 
kinder old now. My goodness ! Six thousand years ! 
I should say he would have whiskers ! (She pauses 
and regards the poodle anxiously.) The New Testa- 
ment ain't got any chapter on dogs, Leo. What 
about it? You better think pretty quick. I don't 
know. You couldn't have much fun if the streets are 
all gobbed up with milk and honey. (She sighs.) 
Oh, don't look to me like I was in for any good time, 
either. I don't know a note on the harp. I would 
enjoy flying, for a change, and getting off my feet. 
And if my folks goes there, I will have somebody to 
talk to. They think I'm all right. (She sees the 
book Oliver has dropped on the rug, picks it up and 
opens it at the fly leaf.) "Oliver The — Theo-file — 
us Keane." (She embraces the book impulsively, 
then bends over and speaks in a stage whisper to 
the poodle.) It's his! Look! I wouldn't string 
you, Leo. There's his name all wrote out. Can't 
you read nothing? 'Course you can't. Well, I guess 
I will read to you, then — something out of his book. 
Something beautiful and elegant and sad. Sh ! (She 
opens the book and reads.) "As 57 angle M is to 
89-3 angle B, so is 4000 miles BL to the perpendicu- 
lar LM." (She closes the book.) Hm! Well, any- 
way, they lived happy ever after. (She rises.) Or 
would if — if to-morrow wasn't going to settle every- 
body's hash. That's what he says, and if he says 
so, it is! (In the act of stretching her arms again, 
she chances to look down at herself and exclaims.) 
My goodness, Leo ! Why didn't you tell me I had 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 55 

my dress on hind side before? For all you care, 
I could walk down Pearl Street or Diamond Street 
looking like a simp ! (She unbuttons the dress down 
the front, starts to take off one sleeve, stops, goes 
behind the divan, where she is hidden from audience, 
and turns her dress front side first. Only her head 
is visible as she talks to the poodle.) I don't want 
you to see what I got on under here, Leo, because 
you might up and start some low gossip. (Pauses 
and struggles with dress.) I guess my dress is good 
enough to sit on any white cloud with. (From off 
left comes a tremendous honking of an auto horn. 
Panic-stricken, Ricky screams.) Leo! It's to-mor- 
row! (Tremblingly she hurries out from behind the 
divan, trying to fasten the top button of her dress,, 
fails, falls to her knees, and gathers the poodle in her 
arms protectingly.) 

Oliver, indistinctly outlined in the shadows, enters 
at left, pausing at door. 

Ricky. 
( Quaveringly. ) 
Let me take him with me ! He's so little ! 

Oliver. 

(Absently.) 

I left a book here. (He sees it on the hearth, 

comes forward and retrieves it, starts again for the 

door, and turns.) Yes. I remember. They said you 

were to come along. 

Ricky. 

(Painfully.) 
I can't. I ain't buttoned up the back. 



56 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Oliver. 
A small matter. Turn around. 

(Dazed, Ricky obeys. Tucking the book under one 
arm, he buttons her dress.) 

Ricky. 
( Uncomfortably. ) 
The third buttonhole is tore. 

Oliver. 
We shall omit the third buttonhole. The seventh 
button is absent. What shall we do about that? 

Ricky. 
I meant to sew it on, but I lost it. 

Oliver. 
(Finishing.) 
Quite logical. There! (He sits on chair near 
writing desk, opens his book, and reads.) 

Ricky. 
(Awkwardly.) 
Thank you. 

Oliver. 
(Politely.) 
Of no consequence, I assure you. (He becomes 
engrossed in the book. There is a great crash of 
thunder.) 

Derry. 
(Off left, honking auto horn and shouting.) 
Keane, hurry up ! 

Oliver. 
(Starting up.) 
Er — shall we be going? 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 57 

Ricky. 
Yes, sir. (She hesitates. ) When he made all that 
noise the first time, I thought it was God. 

Oliver. 
(Absently tucking the book wader his arm.) 
Did you? 

Ricky. 

(Looking up at him adoringly.) 
Yes ! I thought it was only God, but it was you ! 

(As they go out at left door — ) 
Curtain 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 



Second Act 
Scene: The living room of Oliver's home, at 
about five o'clock the following morning. It has 
three doors: one up center leading outdoors, another 
down right leading to kitchen and outdoors to the 
other shack, and a third door up left leading to the 
rooms upstairs. A curtained window is up right. 
The room is meagerly furnished and is somewhat dis- 
ordered. A large library table is at center, with a 
chair at right of it arid another behind it, facing 
audience. A fireplace, with mantelshelf, is in the cen- 
ter of the left wall, with a fire blazing on the hearth 
(red electric bulbs under several sticks of wood). An 
old-fashioned rocking-chair is down left, with a foot- 
stool close beside it. Against the table, facing the 
footlights is a couch with a few faded pillows on it. 
An armchair is up right near window, and a plain 
chair is down right. A few rugs are on the floor, 
the largest being in front of fireplace, and several 
pictures, of little charm and value, are on walls. On 
mantelshelf is a small clock, with the face so turned 
that it is not clearly visible to audience. Its striking 
is simulated by ringing a bell off left. The center 
table is littered with books, papers, memoranda, 
pipe, matches, pouch of tobacco, case containing 
cigarettes, a woman's traveling case containing a 
hair brush, also a plain study lamp with a cheap 

59 



60 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

green shade-, which, with the glow from the fireplace, 
provides rather poor lighting for the room. Foot- 
lights should be on during this act, and blue lights 
just outside the window should be used on cue to 
indicate the coming of dawn. 

At rise of curtain, Enid, with a raincoat of 
Oliver's about her bare shoulders, sits cross-legged 
on the hearth of the fireplace, eating bread and but- 
ter and sipping tea from a plain white cup. Evelyn, 
a sport coat over her everting gown, is in a chair 
drawn up to the center table, book in hand. Mrs. 
Quayle, well swathed in shawls, is asleep in the rock- 
ing-chair, down left, and Leslie sits on the footstool 
with her head in her mother's lap. She, too, is asleep, 
a frayed bathrobe about her. Harry is stretched 
out asleep on the couch at center, still in pajamas 
and overcoat. 

The right door, leading into the kitchen, opens 
cautiously and Ricky enters with broom, mop, and 
bucket. She wears a velveteen hunting jacket of 
Oliver's and a pair of his shoes. Enid turns at the 
sound, and Ricky, as if suddenly remembering an 
important engagement elsewhere, vanishes back to 
the kitchen. 

Evelyn. 
{Looking up from her book.) 
What was that? 

Enid. 
Just Ricky. She has been bobbing in every five 
minutes all night long, and I fully believe she means 
to clean the place if we ever go to bed. I'll say it 
needs it, too. Have some tea? 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 61 

Evelyn. 
( Yawning. ) 
No, thanks. I'm trying to work up an appetite 
for sleep with this. (She holds up her book.) 

Enid. 
What is it? 

Evelyn. 
(Reading title on front of book.) 
"Perfect Poise and How to Attain It." (Enid 
laughs.) There is another very racy one here called 
"The Relation of Calm to Eternity.'*' 

Enid. 
They are Oliver's. When he was about nineteen, 
he went in for all that sort of thing because he stut- 
tered so badly. 

Evelyn. 
Oliver stuttered? 

Enid. 
Terribly, my dear. Funny old chap, isn't he? No 
end odd. Not a bit like the rest of the family, so 
we have rather left him to himself. 

Evelyn. 
(Dryly.) 
I can see that with the naked eye. 

Enid. 
He has never cared a straw for bridge or flirting 
or any of the really vital things of life. (Sighs.) 
But what estranges me from him more than anything 
else is his lack of soul. 



62 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Leslie. 
(Sitting up and yawning daintily.) 
Am I missing something? 

Enid. 
Why don't you and Helen go upstairs? There 
are plenty of perfectly good beds up there. 

Leslie. 
(Rising and joining Enid at fireplace.) 
Mamma wants to wait down here until to-morrow, 
so that she can see what's going to happen. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Waking petulantly and looking about her.) 
What time is it? 

Enid. 
(Consulting her wrist watch.) 
It is after five. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Groaning.) 
Such a night ! I don't believe I shall be able to 
keep awake another minute ! What is that you are 
drinking, Enid? 

Enid. 
(Rising.) 
Tea! Have some? 

Mrs. Quayle. 
Yes. It may help my poor head. 

(Enid crosses and goes out at right door.) 

(Harry raises himself on his elbow with some dif- 
ficulty, and his glance falls upon Mrs. Quayle.) 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 63 

Harry. 
{Angrily, to Mrs. Quayle.) 
What are you doing in ray room? 

Enter Enid at right. 

Enid. 
Now that you are up, Harry, you'd better join 
the boys. 

Harry. 
(Holding his hand to his head.) 
No ! Not another drop. 

Enid. 
(Crossing to him and speaking with sharp exaspera- 
tion. ) 
Don't be a stupid fool and an idiot, sweetheart! 

Harry. 
(Clasping her hand beseechingly.) 
Do you still love your poor faults in spite of his 
husband? 

Enid. 
(Severely.) 
Certainly, my darling. Now get up and get out 
of here. 

Harry. 
(Tearfully.) 
I'm no good. There's no use to argue the matter. 
(He weeps.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Complainingly. ) 
I shall never find relief for my poor head at this 
rate. 



64 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Ricky enters at right with a cup of tea, on a 
saucer, which she holds out to Mrs. Quayle, who 
pays no attention. Ricky, her eyes closing from 
time to time exhaustedly, continues to hold the cup 
toward Mrs. Quayle. 

Harry. 
(To Mrs. Quayle, angrily.) 
Then what are you arguing for? 

Mrs. Quayle. 

(Indignantly.) 
I am not arguing! I agree with you fully and 
always have done so. It was my poor aching head 
that caused my remark. 

Harry. 
You needn't think you've got the only head in 
captivity. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
I have no intention of submitting to further insult 
from you, Harry Fownes, and neither Leslie nor 
myself shall ever step across your threshold again 
either formally or in a playful spirit. Heaven knows 
I've given you no occasion to prove, as you are now 
doing, what a low, unprincipled, irresponsible, heart- 
less — 

Ricky. 

(Absently.) 
Oh, shut up ! (She is so startled and frightened 
at her own words that she drops the cup and saucer 
with a crash of breaking china.) 

Enid. 
(Sharply.) 
Ricky! 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 65 

(Mrs. Quayle rises majestically.) 

Ricky. 
(On her knees, picking up the pieces.) 
I'm sorrjr, Mis' Quayle. I just thought out loud. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
Come, Leslie. I am going. (Goes up left, Leslie 
following her.) 

Enid. 
(Alarmed.) 
Where ? 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Loftily.) 
To bed! (Goes out at left, followed by Leslie.) 

Ricky. 
(On her knees.) 
I'm sorry, Mis' Fownes. I'm sorry, Mr. Fownes. 

Harry. 
(Reaching out a hand and laying it dramatically on 
her head.) 
Rise, little one ! Ere to-morrow's dawn sinks 
slowly to rest this rock shall fly from — 

Enid. 
(Catching him by the elbow.) 
Go into the kitchen, Ricky. 

Ricky. 
(Rising obediently, carrying pieces of china.) 
Yessum ! 

Enid. 
(To Ricky as she reaches the door.) 
Have you a place to sleep out there? 



66 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Ricky. 
Yessum ! There's a nice soft sack of potatoes, and 
me and Leo'll keep each other warm. 

Enid. 
Have coffee ready at nine o'clock. 

Ricky. 
(Hesitatingly.) 
You better have it now, Mis' Fownes. It'll soon 
be six o'clock, and that's to-morrow — 

Harry. 
(Rising.) 

Wait ! There was something I had to remember. 

Enid. 
Run along, Ricky. 

(Exit Ricky at right.) 

Harry. 
No. That wasn't it. 

Enid. 
(Impatiently.) 
Evelyn and I want to go to bed, Harry. Go out 
with the boys. 

Harry. 
Where are they? 

Enid. 
In the other shack where the telescope is : Oliver's 
study. (Harry crosses to right door, muttering. 
Enid continues sweetly.) Lover, don't you want to 
apologize to Eve before }^ou go? 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 67 

Harry. 
( Turning. ) 
What for? 

Enid. 
For making such an ass of yourself, pet- 

Harry. 
(Shouting at Evelyn angrily.) 
I'm sorry. (Exit at right.) 

Enid. 
( Wearily. ) 
Shall we go upstairs? I am so tired that I could 
sleep on a barbed wire fence. (Goes to door up left.) 

Evelyn. 
(Looking up.) 
Even that couldn't tempt me away from this de- 
licious gossip about souls that yearn to be free. 

Enid. 
(Yawning.) 
It impresses you; does it? 

Evelyn. 
I shall stop wearing tight shoes to-morrow. 

Enid. 
(With another yawn.) 
To-morrow is almost with us. I suppose it will 
be as stupid as any other day. Good night ! (Exit 
at left, going upstairs.) 

(Evelyn puts down her book. Her head falls 
back against the chair. A look of unutterable 
weariness comes over her face.) 

The door at right opens cautiously, and once more 



68 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Ricky enters with broom, mop, and pail. She drops 
the broom with a crash. Evelyn starts. 

Ricky. 
(Patiently.) 
Ain't you ever going to sleep? 

Evelyn. 
(Rising.) 
I wonder! 

Ricky. 

You better get in a few licks before the horn blows. 

Evelyn. 
What about you? 

Ricky. 
(Wearily.) 

Me? I ain't through with my work yet. I got 
to get this place swept up and cleaned around the 
edges so they won't think he didn't have anybody \o 
look after him. 

Evelyn. 
"He" is Oliver, of course; but who are "they"? 

Ricky. 
Gabriel and all that gang. I don't want to let 'em 
have one chance to make any low cracks about him. 

Evelyn. 
Certainly not ! (She begins to take the pins from 
her hair.) Could you spare me a moment to brush 
my hair? Perhaps it would make me drowsy. 

Ricky. 
(Putting down broom, mop, and pail.) 
You'd ought to work harder, and then you'd sleep. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 69 

(She dries her ■ hands on the velveteen coat, as 
Evelyn searches in a traveling case on table.) 
Sleep is the easiest thing I have to do. 

Evelyn. 
(Handing her a brush and reseating herself.) 
This is good of you, Ricky. Would you mind not 
talking? 

Ricky. 
(Hurt.) 
No'm. I'm used to it, but I was in hopes that 
before to-morrow set in, I would have just one con- 
versation. (She brushes Evelyn's hair.) 

Evelyn. 
Not to-night, please. (Closes her eyes.) I'm too 
frazzled to utter a word. 

Enter Derry at right. On seeing Evelyn, he halts 
abruptly. 

Derry. 
Pardon! Didn't know anyone was up. Did I 
leave my cigarette case here? 

Evelyn. 
( Vivaciously. ) 
Do come in ! I'm dying for some one to talk to. 

(Ricky, hurt, continues her brushing. Derry 
crosses to table and lights a cigarette from his case, 
which he finds among the litter.) 

Derry. 
Harry made such a row coming in that he woke 
us both, and for a minute I felt like chucking him 
into the bushes. 



70 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Evelyn. 
I doubt if even Harry could add to this scenery. 

Derry. 
Why aren't you in bed? 

Evelyn. 
(Smiling.) 
Same old reason. Can't sleep. 

% Derry. 

What have you got on your conscience? 

Evelyn. 
(Still smiling.) 
You! 

Derry. 
(Laughing.) 
I? When and why? 

Evelyn. 
I was very unkind to you once, and I said some 
horrid things about your being poor and inefficient 
and without enough brains to make a living for your- 
self and — for us. 

Derry. 
( Good-naturedly. ) 
Oh, that ! It was true — every word ! It ought to 
please you enormously to think that you were per- 
fectly right. Time has proved it. I'm still poor, 
still without brains — same old Till! 

Evelyn. 
But you are nice ! There are so few men that are 
nice. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 71 

Derry. 
Thanks! It's never got me anywhere. 

Evelyn. 
No. It's rather a handicap to a man unless he 
has some one to encourage him — some one to fight 
for. 

Derry. 
(Enthusiastically. ) 
And I've finally got that, Eve — that encourage- 
ment. I think I'd have made a lot of progress in my 
work if I'd only met a woman like Leslie sooner. 

(Ricky lays down the brush and glares at Derry. 
Evelyn looks up inquiringly, and Ricky resumes, 
muttering, however, under her breath.) 

Evelyn. 
(Slowly.) 
Needless to say, I am very glad. 

Derry. 
I knew you would be when you heard it. You and 
I were greater pals than any two people I ever saw. 

Evelyn. 
Yet I failed you. 

Derry. 
Good Lord, Eve ! I didn't blame you. Don't get 
it into your head that I did. Why on earth should 
you, with your charm and love of life, tie yourself 
to a pauper and live in a kitchen? You did the 
sensible thing and turned me down. Good for you ! 

(Ricky, much interested, stops brushing, and 



72 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

stci7ids listening, with her hands on her hips. The 
others are too preoccupied to notice her.) 

Evelyn. 

(Dryly.) 
Instead of casting my lot with you, I wanted to 
better myself. So I married Jack Hempstead ! 
(Laughs, as if greatly amused.) 

Derry. 
(Laughing also.) 
It wasn't so funny then, but I can laugh now, too. 
What a chump I was ! 

Evelyn. 
(Sharply.) 
I wasn't laughing at you. At times you are as 
stupid as Oliver. 

(Ricky, as if galvanized into action, raises the 
hair brush threateningly, thinks better of her evident 
idea to assassinate Evelyn, and resumes brushing.) 

Derry. 
( Cheerfully. ) 
Well, no matter. It's all over now — all over and 
forgotten. Don't you have me on your conscience, 
Eve old dear. (He reaches out a hand, which she 
clasps warmly in silence.) I am as happy as a fel- 
low can be who didn't expect much and gets more 
than he deserves. 

Evelyn. 
(Earnestly.) 
You have never had half a chance at what is really 
coming to you, Till. You will be a big man when 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 73 

3'ou get started. I know it. Do believe in yourself ; 
won't you? 

(Ricky excitedly goes down left and brings the 
footstool to Evelyn's side, sits upon it, and listens, 
watching them eagerly.) 

Derry. 
I'm afraid there isn't much of anything there to 
pin faith to. You see, I'm not clever. 

Evelyn. 
Cleverness doesn't count, my dear. Any rotter 
can be clever. They usually are. People like me, 
for example, and it's nothing at all. The big thing 
that matters is to have a heart and a soul; and 
you've got both. Till, the fight is yours if you just 
go after it and stick to it and scrap. 

Derry. 
{Enthusiastically. ) 
And you've no idea what it means to have some one 
by the side of you. I tell you it makes me mighty 
confident when I think that a sweet youngster like 
Leslie has the spunk to step out in line and meet 
the world shoulder to shoulder with me. That's love, 
Eve! 

Evelyn. 
(Slowly.) 
Of course it is, and it's coming to you — that sort 
of love — the real kind! (She gives his hand a final 
friendly pressure and releases it.) 

Derry. 
(Conscience-stricken. ) 
Here I am, drooling along about myself when you 



74 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

should be in bed! But it's done me no end of good 
— this little chat. Things always seem plainer when 
you point them out. Good night, old dear. (He 
impulsively bends and kisses her awkwardly on the 
top of her head.) I'll leave these for you. (Lays 
his cigarette case on table before her and crosses to 
right door. Evelyn remains motionless.) Good 
night. (Exit at right.) 

(Ricky drops to her knees and opens her arms 
speechlessly to Evelyn, who, without a word, buries 
her head on Ricky's shoulder and sobs.) 

Ricky. 
Miss Eve ! My goodness, don't ! Don't, honey ! 
Lookit 3 7 our pretty eyes getting all swole ! He needs 
you, only he's crazy; that's all. She ain't his kind, 
and he don't know it. He'll find out like you did. 
You see if he don't. 

Evelyn. 

(Lifting her head.) 

Thank you, Ricky. (She sits up and wipes her 

eyes.) It's this wretched insomnia that shakes me 

to pieces. Ordinarily I can laugh myself out of it 

as I laugh at everything. 

Ricky. 
I like you better this way. (She opens her arms 
invitingly.) Come on! Cry some more. 

Evelyn. 

(Regaining control of herself.) 

No. That is quite enough. (Pats Ricky's hand 

and rises.) And don't imagine a lot of things that 

are not so. Anyone who hasn't slept for a week is 

apt to be silly and hysterical over nothing. Here! 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 75 

(Strips a diamond bracelet off her arm and offers it 
to Ricky.) You are to say nothing whatever about 
this. Do you understand? 

Ricky. 

(Rising and speaking sharply.) 
I don't want any pay just because I felt sorry for 
you. (Crosses to right door.) 

Evelyn. 
Ricky ! 

Ricky. 

(Opening door.) 
Keep your ol' bracelet! (She is very near tears 
herself. ) 

Evelyn. 
(Following her to door.) 
I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Ricky. 

Ricky. 
Go on ! Hurt 'em ! Everybody does. 

Evelyn. 
(Considering her thoughtfully.) 
After all — you are a woman, too; aren't you? 

Ricky. 

(Harshly.) 

No. I ain't. I'm a doormat for people to scrape 

their feet on, and I tell you right now the "welcome" 

on it is damn near wore off! (She sniffs forlornly.) 

Evelyn. 
(Hesitatingly.) 
I'm extremely sorry that I misjudged you. I 
really am, my dear. (Turns and goes up left.) 



76 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Ricky. 

(Without turning.) 
I'm sorry I snapped you up, Miss Eve. You're 
the only one that's treated me like I was white. 

Evelyn. 
(Turning back to Ricky.) 
Then you will take the bracelet? Please do. Ac- 
cept it as a little gift from me. 

Ricky. 
(Longingly, as she goes toward Evelyn a few 

steps.) 
No, ma'am. Thank you. But if you was to stay 
and talk to me awhile — only maybe ten minutes — 
I'm pretty lonesome — five minutes even — 

Evelyn. 
(Plaintively.) 
Oh, Ricky, anything but that. I'm dead! Good 
night! (Exit at left.) 

(Ricky crosses to fireplace and stands, arms akimbo, 
looking into it.) 

Ricky. 
(With an attempt at cheerfulness.) 
Well, here we are again. Hello, fire ! You and 
me has been keeping company quite some time now; 
ain't we? 

As she speaks, the right door opens, and Oliver 
enters with an armful of wood. He crosses, and she 
stands shyly aside while he drops the wood, and 
bending over the fire, builds it up. Ricky, stricken 
quite dumb in his presence, tiptoes to her broom and 
pail, picks up the broom, and starts sweeping. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 77 

Oliver, unconscious of her presence, consults his 
watch, crosses to table, sits, makes a few figures, 
stops, arranges his papers and books neatly and 
crossing to window up right, throws up the shade, 
folds his arms, and stands waiting. 

Ricky. 
(On her knees, cleaning under the table.) 
Have I got time to wipe up? 

Oliver. 
(Startled.) 

Who spoke? 

Ricky. 
(Rising.) 
It's only me. 

Oliver. 
(Peering at her shortsightedly.) 
Do I know you? 

Ricky. 
Miss Ricketts. May Jessamine Ricketts. (He 
stares at her, puzzled, not recognizing her.) Mis' 
Fownes help. Ricky ! 

Oliver. 
Ah, yes. I buttoned your dress last night. 

Ricky. 
(Embarrassed.) 
Yes, sir! (Drops to her knees and resumes clean- 
ing. ) 

Oliver. 
(Crossing down to table.) 
May I ask what you are doing under there? 



78 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Ricky. 
Cleaning! I thought I better get the place tidy 
before the angels started to track it all up. 

Oliver. 
You mean — ? 

Ricky. 
To-morrow ! I guess it's pret' near here. 

Oliver. 
(Gravely comparing his watch with the clock on the 
mantelshelf. ) 
We still have twenty minutes. 

Ricky. 
{Rising, broom in hand,) 
What do you want me to do first? 

Oliver. 
Let us omit the cleaning. Shall we talk? 

Ricky. 
(Dropping the broom with alacrity,) 
Yes, sir. 

Oliver. 
Where would you like to sit? 

Ricky. 
I'm uster to the rug than any place. 

Oliver. 
(Drawing rocking-chair from down left up to fire- 
place. ) 
And I shall sit here. 

(Ricky sits cross-legged with her back to the 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 79 

fire, facing Oliver in his chair. There is a long 
silence, on his part a musing one.) 

Ricky. 
( Wriggling uneasily. ) 
I wish I was a mind reader. 

Oliver. 
{Absently.) 
Beg pardon? 

Ricky. 
Then you wouldn't have to speak a word to me if 
you didn't want to. 

Oliver. 
{Rousing himself.) 
I must ask your forgiveness. You see, I am alone 
so much — all of the time practically — that silence 
is a habit with me. 

Ricky. 

It's bad for you not to talk once in a while. Talk- 
ing lets the poison out. 

Oliver. 
{Interested.) 
And what poisons you? 

Ricky. 
People! I hate 'em. They're nasty-minded and 
mean. You've got to wait on 'em from morning till 
night, and then they — look down on you because you 
never had a chance to go to school like they did. 
And the men is always putting their arm around you. 

Oliver. ' 
I thought women rather fancied that sort of thing. 



80 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Ricky. 
From the right one, yes. Now if you — {Pauses 
abruptly.) You wouldn't do that. You're different 
from other men. 

Oliver. 
{Sadly.) 
I am afraid I am. 

Ricky. 
Afraid ! My goodness ! If the whole world was 
like you — 

Oliver. 
{Rising.) 
What a stupid place it would be! Eh? A place 
full of books and figures and dusty facts — and lonely 
days and lonelier nights. 

Ricky. 
{Surveying him shrewdly.) 
You been poisoned, too. 

Oliver. 
{Rises and goes to table, where he fills the pipe lying 
there and lights it.) 
I daresay. However, it doesn't matter now. {He 
hesitates at a confidence.) 

Ricky. 
{Softly.) 

Tell me. 

Oliver. 

{Capitulating to her sympathy.) 

I used to stutter. In my childhood the habit was 

quite pronounced and afforded me no little painful 

embarrassment. My family was ashamed of me. I 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 81 

was ashamed, too. (Laughs cheerfully and crosses 
back to stand before the fire.) 

Ricky. 
Don't! It makes me hurt all over. 

Oliver. 
During my boyhood, I learned to protect myself 
in a way : by saying nothing. It simplified the whole 
affair but did not tend to endear me to my relatives. 
In fact, they grew to dislike me. They thought me 
sullen, bitter, impossible. I don't believe I was. And 
being left alone, I began to conquer the thing slowly 
but surely. First, I analyzed myself, and found that 
I was too enthusiastic, too easily excited, that I 
cared too much about people and what they said and 
did. So I practiced a lack of interest. I fixed my 
thoughts on the abstract instead of the personal. 
And — just when I got the whip hand and could hold 
up my head among my fellow men, I fell in love. 

Ricky. 
(Clapping her hands delightedly.) 
And she loved you for being so brave! 

Oliver. 
(Gravely.) 
She laughed at me. 

Ricky. 
(Painfully.) 
Laughed ! 

Oliver. 
You see — I cared then. And caring, I lapsed 
again into my old habit of stuttering. I forgot my 
studiously cultivated poise, my detachment. I loved 



82 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

her, and because I loved her I stuttered when I asked 
her to marry me. (Throws back his head in a genu- 
ine laugh. Ricky suddenly buries her face in her 
hands.) Shortly after that, desperately in need of 
something, I found a book on astronomy — just a 
child's primer. I have it now. (Crosses to table and 
rummages among the papers there.) Yes. Here 
it is! (Absently he turns the leaves, sees a para- 
graph of interest, becomes absorbed, sits in chair 
right of table, and reads.) 

Ricky. 
(Rising, after a short pause.) 
Thank you for telling me. 

Oliver^ 

(Starting up.) 

I say ! It isn't at all nice of me to forget you. 

Ricky. 
That's all right. I'm used to it. 

Oliver. 
(Coming down left.) 
Let's be friends. 

Ricky. 
(Ecstatically.) 
Oh! 

Oliver. 
(Putting out his hand.) 
We haven't much time, and I'm rather sorry. 
(Ricky puts her hand in his.) I haven't talked so 
much in years. It's been quite delightful. 

Ricky. 
(Tensely.) 
I wish that to-morrow would never come so that 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 83 

I could work for you and take care of you all my 
life long, to — to make up for what the others didn't 
do. 

Oliver. 
(Touched.) 
My dear ! 

Ricky. 
Don't say that! I couldn't bear it. (They un- 
clasp hands. She backs away, confused.) I got 
some hot coffee on the stove for you. 

Oliver. 
Shall we have it together? 

Ricky. 
(Delightedly.) 
We? Everything's ready. I'll bring it in. 

Ricky crosses stage and, runs out at right. 
Oliver stares thoughtfully at the fire, then goes to 
table, picks up the book in which he has been recently 
interested, closes it decisively, smooths his hair, and 
removes his horn-rimmed spectacles. Ricky reenters 
at right with a complete coffee set, with two cups and 
saucers on a tray, and crosses to fireplace, depositing 
it on the rug. 

Ricky. 
Now! (Squats beside it.) 

Oliver. 
This is quite — er — jolly! (Looks down at the 
tray.) It seems such a distance down there. Am I 
expected to fold up like a tent and collapse beside 
you? 



84 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Ricky. 
(Merrily, as she -fills the cups,) 
You are funny! 

Oliver. 
(Sitting cross-legged on the rug beside her.) 
Thank you ! 

Ricky. 
(Bewildered, looks at him.) 
But — what did you do while I was away? All of 
a sudden, you're different ! 

Oliver. 
Possibly it was the spectacles. 

Ricky. 
That's what it is ! I ain't afraid of you any more. 
Oh, don't ever put 'em on again because you got such 
nice eyes. There's twinkles in 'em. 

Oliver. 
I assure you there isn't a twinkle left. 

Ricky. 

(Excitedly.) 

Yes! There was one just then looking at me! 

Oliver. 
(Gallantly.) 
Then it saw a very charming little person. 

Ricky. 
(Looking back of her.) 
Where? Who? 

Oliver. 
Miss — er — Ricky! I believe I shall call you 
Rikki-tikki-tavi. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 85 

(They sip their coffee.) 

Ricky. 
That's pretty! Where'd you get it from? 

Oliver. 
A story of Kipling's. Rikki-tikki-tavi was a mon- 
goose. 

Ricky. 
(Evidently crushed by this.) 
The goose part fits me. But what does "mon" 
stand for? 

Oliver. 
(Laughs heartily for the first time.) 
Never mind ! Nothing whatever that should of- 
fend you. Another cup of coffee, please. 

Ricky. 
( Uncomfortably. ) 
Don't look at my hands. They ain't nice and 
smooth like other ladies' hands. 

Oliver. 
The serviceable hand is the most beautiful, Rikki- 
tikki! 

Ricky. 

(Surveying herself consciously.) 
I must be a sight, with your shoes on and every- 
thing, but I brought some other clothes with me — 
some pretty good-looking ones if they're pressed out. 
(Absently rubs the back of her hand against her 
cheek and unconsciously leaves a smear of soot 
there. ) 



86 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Oliver. 

(Observing her critically.) 

You have picked up a bit of soot. Have you a 

handkerchief? (Ricky feels in the pockets of his 

coat without finding one. He offers her his.) Take 

this ! 



Ricky. 
(Rubbing her cheek.) 



Is it off? 



Oliver. 
Not yet. (Again she scrubs.) Let me have it. 
(Rising to his knees, he rubs at the spot.) 

Ricky. 
(Humbly.) 
Don't bother about me, Mr. Keane. 

Oliver. 
(Interested in the scrubbing process.) 
Turn your face toward me a trifle more. There! 
I believe it's gone. (He pokes her cheek with an 
experimental finger.) Do you know — you are very 
soft and — and pleasing? (Ricky is stricken dumb 
again. ) I shouldn't mind doing it all over. You are 
really quite — quite magnetic to the touch, little 
Rikki-tikki! (He leans toward her slowly as the 
clock strikes the three-quarter hour. Oliver starts 
up, dazed.) Fifteen minutes to six. I had forgotten. 
(Ricky slumps wearily, her hands folded in her lap, 
Oliver goes to window up right, and looks out. Pale 
blue lights off up right indicate the break of dawn.) 
Shall we arouse the others? 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 87 

Ricky. 
I wouldn't. Let 'em go out the way they are and 
not wake up. No use to scare 'em. 

Oliver. 
(Turning back.) 
Are you frightened, Rikki-tikki? 

Ricky. 

(Hopelessly.) 
No. I ain't afraid. I'm glad. I've got pretty 
tired these last few years. (Sighs.) Maybe some 
place else I will get a square deal, and somebody will 
learn me the things I'm crazy to know : books and 
embroidery and all that. Or I would like a farm 
with flowers on it where I could work outdoors in the 
wind and let it blow me every which way. 

Oliver. 
(Gently.) 
I hope you find your farm. 

Ricky. 
(Hopefully.) 
Which direction are you going? 

Oliver. 
I don't know. 

Ricky. 
I wish you did. We might go at least part of the 
way together, and neither of us would get lonesome 
then. There's just one thing I'm sorry about: I 
never got engaged. Not a single person ever said, 
"Will you?" and I said, "Yes." And it's too late 
now. I guess I will never get engaged or have chil- 
dren or anything. (Oliver absently inspects a ring 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 



on his finger. Ricky rises.) I'd better get into my 
Judgment Day dress. My mother will have a fit 
when she sees the way I cut it over. It was hers. 
(Starts to right.) 

Oliver. 
(Crossing down right with a queer smile, he meets, 
her and holds out the ring.) 
Will you? 

Ricky. 
Will I what? 

Oliver. 
You — you made the remark that nobody ever said, 
"Will you?" So I shall say it. Will you? 

Ricky. 
( Trembling. ) 
You ain't asking me to marry you, Mr. Keane? 

Oliver. 
(Awkwardly.) 
I believe I am. Yes. I'm quite positive that I am. 

Ricky. 
But you don't mean it. It's only a joke! 

Oliver. 
(Gravely.) 
It is scarcely the time to accuse me of being light 
and frivolous. Look at me (Ricky faces him diz- 
zily) — and tell me what you see. 

Ricky. 

(Unsteadily.) 
They ain't any more twinkles. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 89 

Oliver. 
What else? 

Ricky. 
And you're lonesome and tired. 

Oliver. 
(Picking up her hand and slipping his ring on her 
finger. ) 
Take this with you to your farm, and if I can find 
you, I will, Rikki-tikki! Would you like me to? 

Ricky. 
(Adoringly.) 
Oh! 

Oliver. 
You wouldn't think me a dusty, musty bookworm 
or an awkward clown? Or laugh at me? You would, 
as a woman, consider me just a man and be patient 
with my mistakes and my timidity? 

Ricky. 
(Breaking away from him,) 
Please don't! 

Oliver. 
(Misunderstanding her action.) 
After all, it is rather too much to expect. (He 
goes to the fire and relights his pipe, then crosses to 
right door.) I'll be back in five minutes, and we'll 
face the thing together. I'd like you to wear the 
ring, anyway, if you will. (Exit, right.) 

(Ricky, with a sob crosses slowly and exit, right.) 

After a short pause, Evelyn enters at left, crosses 
to table, and restlessly lights a cigarette. By acci- 



90 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

dent she drops the cigarette case on the -floor. After 
a moment, Leslie enters at left, pausing in doorway. 

Leslie. 
{Brightening.) 
Eve ! What luck to find you up ! And where did 
you get the cigarettes? I've been dying for one all 
evening. 

Evelyn. 
(None too cordially.) 
They were here. Why didn't you take one? 

Leslie. 
(Crossing to table, picks up cigarette case, takes out 
a cigarette, and lays case on table.) 
You know mamma. And not only mamma but 
Till. He loathes women to smoke. (She lights a 
cigarette and puffs it.) I'm so glad you can't sleep. 
I want a little chat with you. (She settles herself in 
the chair by the table, as Evelyn roams the room 
nervously.) I have never met anyone I admire as 
much as you. You don't mind my saying so, I'm 
sure. And I want some pointers from you. 

Evelyn. 
(Stopping short and surveying her curiously.) 
About what? 

Leslie. 
Life in general. It's dreadful to be young and not 
to know how to play the game. I mean to learn, and 
learn it cleverly, you can rest assured of that. Just 
as yet, I've had no thrilling experiences such as 
you've had, and it makes me furious. How can one 
be well poised unless one knows values? 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 91 

Evelyn. 
(Crossing and standing over her.) 
I don't believe I understand what you're driv- 
ing at. 

Leslie. 
(Laughing.) 
Of course you do ! I think I made myself quite 
plain. 

Evelyn. 
How old are you, Leslie? 

Leslie. 
I'm nearly twenty, and a girl of twenty these days 
is nobody's fool. You know that. 

Evelyn. 
But — you are just out of school; aren't you? 

Leslie. 
What if I am? Do you suppose I learned nothing 
there but French and German verbs? How ridicu- 
lous ! When the teachers' backs are turned, we 
smoke and gamble and flirt the same as women of 
your kind do, and while we're not recognized adven- 
turesses or vampires, don't think for a minute we're 
slow ! Indeed not ! 

(Evelyn puts out her cigarette and sits in chair 
back of table, studying Leslie.) 

Evelyn. 
What does Till think of it? 

Leslie. 
(Airily.) 
He doesn't dream of it. Mon Dieu! Nor mamma, 



92 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

either. I'm a simple shrinking violet to them, and 
it's clever of me to play the part so well. At least I 
won't have to learn that. You see, that is exactly 
why I admire you so tremendously. You're up on 
those things, every little trick of manner and speech, 
and you must teach me all you know. You must! 

Evelyn. 
{Slowly.) 
I'm very dense to-night or else my nerves are play- 
ing weird jokes on me. Just what is it that you think 
I know so much about? 

Leslie. 
Men, of course! How to attract them and make 
them perfectly crazy over you, how to hold them even 
if you don't care a lot yourself, and to get rid of 
them gracefully, once you are through with them. 
It must be wonderfully fascinating sport ! 

Evelyn. 
(Roughly.) 
Do you realize what you are saying? 

Leslie. 
Certainly I do. 

Evelyn. 
You can't. It isn't possible. 

Leslie. 
I mean every word I have said, and you needn't 
treat me like a child or pretend you don't under- 
stand. I know your reputation, Eve Hempstead. 
(Evelyn rises and crosses to -fireplace, where she' 
stands an instant in silence. Finally she laughs, and 
at some length. Leslie rises and comes down to 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 93 

curl up on couch.) How silly of you to try to pull 
the wool over my eyes ! Now that you've stopped 
bluffing, we can talk seriously, as one woman to an- 
other. 

Evelyn. 
{Trying to control her laughter,) 
Yes. Can't we? 

Leslie. 
And personally I consider I'm paying you quite 
a compliment. There aren't many women as fast as 
you are that I'd have anything to do with. But you 
are so brilliant! 



Evelyn. 



Thank you! 



Leslie. 
(Reflecting.) 
Let me see. What shall I ask you first? 

Evelyn. 
(Gravely.) 
We must make no mistake there. A first lesson 
badly given does unspeakable harm to one's art. 

Leslie. 
So I've heard. Suppose you start me on some- 
thing simple like lying, for example. 

Evelyn. 
(Doubtfully.) 
That remark betrays what an amateur you really 
are. You see, lying is a separate study in itself. 

Leslie. 
(Seriously.) 
Is it, indeed? 



94 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Evelyn. 
It requires not only a good memory, but a most 
delicate technique. As a rule, I teach lying as a 
post-graduate course. 

Leslie. 
( Worried. ) 
How unfortunate, when I need it so badly right 
now! But I'll tell you later about that. What 
would you suggest for beginners? Flirting? 

Evelyn. 
(Crosses and sits beside Leslie on the couch.) 
Excellent ! Tell me what you know. 

Leslie. 
I've been quite successful with bachelors. The 
married men seem more difficult. 

Evelyn. 
As a matter of fact, they are the simpler of the 
two. Just say, "Yonr wife has a sweet face. What 
a pity she dresses her hair that way !" 

Leslie. 
I see. But why hair? W T hy not clothes or man- 
ners ? 

Evelyn. 
Because a married woman's hair is no secret to 
her husband. Either she goes to bed with it done up 
in hideous curlers, or it strings out untidily of morn- 
ings. Any mention of his wife's hair to a married 
man touches him on a sore spot. 

Leslie. 
(Delightedly.') 
Splendid ! I'll not forget ! Is there anything in 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 95 

particular you would like me to remember in regard 
to bachelors? 

Evelyn. 
Wind them up and let them talk about themselves. 
When they threaten to run down, say, "Oh, how in- 
teresting ! And then what did you do ?" 

Leslie. 
I could hug you for all this valuable information ! 
And you will be proud of me when you see what prog- 
ress I'll make. But to go back: you must teach me 
to lie gracefully even if it's only a teeny bit of a les- 
son. Otherwise, how can I handle Till? 

Evelyn. 
Do you mean you want to know how to get rid 
of him? 

Leslie. 
(Laughing.) 
No! I am going to marry him, silly! 

Evelyn. 
(After a pause.) 
I thought you loved Till. 

Leslie. 
Don't be old-fashioned, Eve ! I'm fond of him, of 
course. He is a perfect old peach, and, thank 
heaven, not the suspicious kind who would snoop 
around and try to find out things about me ! The 
truth of the matter is that I'm awfully fond of a 
good time, and I want the freedom it takes to enjoy 
one's self thoroughly. Mamma won't give it to me, 
so I shall have to marry to get it. I've plenty of 
money ; so that doesn't worry me. All that I want is 



96 CINDERELLA OF THE STOR M 

to be free — free to do as I please when and why I 
please ; and poor old Till will be the goat. 

Evelyn. 
(Ris'i7ig, speaks furiously.) 
You little rotter! 

Leslie. 
{Jarred out of her complacency, surveys Evelyn 
shrewdly. ) 
Ah ! You do care ! 

Evelyn. 
{Trying to be nonchalant.) 
Certainly I care. Till and I grew up together. I 
won't have you play him for a fool if I can help it. 

Leslie. 
{Sweetly.) 
What can you do to prevent it? 

Evelyn. 
If necessary, I will tell him the whole thing. 

Leslie. 
And do you think he would believe you and not 
me? I'm just an innocent little girl, you see. You 
are not — quite — that ! 

Evelyn. 
{After a pause, speaks crisply.) 
You are perfectly right. I must use other tactics. 
You've no heart to appeal to and only a selfish tinkle 
of a brain ; so I'm rather at a loss. 

Leslie. 
( Yawning. ) 
Don't trouble. I shan't change my plans in the 
least. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 97 

Evelyn. 

(Sitting again.) 
See here, Les. Be fair. Till has a future, and 
that future will be ruined if you kill his faith in you. 

Leslie. 
I don't intend to. 

Evelyn. 
He would know instinctively if you deceived him. 
He loves you. To him you represent the ideal woman 
— sweet, helpful, clean-minded — a woman to fight for 
and to protect. 

Leslie. 
It isn't a particularly difficult role to play. 

Evelyn. 
Play it with some else, but not Till. He is square 
and fine and sincere. If you can't be that, break the 
engagement. Let him go. 

Leslie. 
( Rising. ) 
So that you could have him? (Goes up to table 
and lights another cigarette.) 

Evelyn. 
(Humbly.) 
Lord, no ! I'm not his kind. 

Leslie. 
(Puzzled.) 
Then why are you interesting yourself so in his 
affairs? I rather fancied you were in love with him. 

Evelyn. 
(Sim ply.) 
I am. 



98 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Leslie. 
You had a chance to marry him once. Why didn't 
you take it? Why didn't you help him build up this 
future of his that you speak of? 

Evelyn. 
Because I was a coward. I was afraid of being 
poor. I'd always been poor, and I was afraid of it. 
So I failed him. 

Leslie. 
Yet you expect me to do something you wouldn't 
do. 

Evelyn. 
(Rising.) 

I didn't realize how much it meant to him or to 
me until later — much too late to do anything about 
it, and I haven't had a moment's peace since then. 
I fly from place to place and from one giddy adven- 
ture to another, trying to forget. I go and go until 
I'm ready to drop. I'm dizzy and worn out with 
going. I'm deadly, deadly tired — (She regains her 
poise and finishes monotonously.) All this is quite 
beside the point. Till deserves the best there is. 
Will you be the one to give it to him? 

Leslie. 

(Fretfully.) 

It would bore me into an early grave, Eve. I 

appreciate how you feel about it. In fact, I'm rather 

sorry for you. But why put it up to me? What 

can I do? 

Evelyn. 
Let him alone. Disappoint him if you must, but 
don't lead him into a trap and then torture him. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 99 

Leslie. 
(Peevishly.) 
I shall marry Till ; that is certain, even if I divorce 
him five minutes later. And you have no right to 
speak of me as if I were a dreadful brigand or a 
highwayman. I wouldn't know how to torture any- 
one. I'm just a child. (Evelyn stares at her a 
moment and breaks into a laugh — a laugh that fairly 
convulses her. She clings to the back of the couch 
for support. Leslie takes this laughter as a com- 
pliment and smiles.) Although I do say some bright 
things; don't I? (This threatens Evelyn with a 
fresh attack, and she can only nod, with her handker- 
chief pressed to her mouth.) I am sure we shall be 
better friends than ever now. So run along and 
finish your nap. (Evelyn, unable to speak, goes up 
left.) Good night, darling! 

Evelyn. 
(Chokingly.) * 
Good night, my angel ! (Exit upstairs, left, still 
laughing. ) 

Leslie. 
(Disgustedly.) 
Flippant thing! (Lights another cigarette and 
inhales the smoke luxuriously. As she turns her back 
to go up stage — ) 

Ricky enters at right in white dress and shoes, paus- 
ing in the doorway. 

Ricky. 

( Ominously. ) 
You better start gnashing your old teeth. 



100 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Leslie. 
{Turning sharply upon her.) 
You were listening to us. Why aren't you in bed? 

Ricky. 
( Solemnly. ) 
I'm waiting for to-morrow. 

Leslie. 
I shall tell Mrs. Fownes what an eavesdropper 
you are. 

Ricky. 

She can't do nothing then. She'll be pretty busy 
her own self, and so will you. I guess in two more 
minutes you will be flapping around, wishing for a 
big cake of ice to set on. 

Leslie. 
What are you talking about? 

Ricky. 
And I hope they ain't even a soda fountain down 
there ! 

Leslie. 
(Furiously.) 
You are a stupid, impertinent little fool! (Exit 
at left.) 

Ricky. 
(Under her breath.) 
You're another. (Thinking better of this, she 
runs up left and calls off anxiously.) But I forgive 
you (continues absently to herself) — as we forgive 
others who trespass — (She goes to the fireplace 
and stirs the half-dead coals. In the silence, she 
becomes unnerved with sudden fear. She makes a 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 101 

dash across stage to door at right and reaches it 
as — ) 

Oliver enters, right. 

Oliver. 
Where were you going? 

Ricky. 

(Hoarsely.} 

To find you. I'm afraid. I'm terrible afraid! 

Oliver. 
(Kindly.) 
Don't be, little Ricky! (He opens his arms, and 
she goes to him.) You have done your best; haven't 
you? (She nods, her face pressed against his coat.) 
You have fought a very hard battle — because that 
is what life is: a battle. And you've fought against 
great odds and with no encouragement. There is a 
sure reward for bravery; there must be. And there 
will be a place where lonely, tired, bruised souls may 
stop awhile and find rest and be comforted. (Pauses 
a moment.) Will you — will you say, "I love you"? 
I have never heard it. 

Ricky. 

(Sobbing.) 
I love you ! I do ! 

(He stoops to kiss her. The clock on the mantel- 
shelf very slowly starts to strike six. At the second 
chime — ) 

Curtain 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 



Third Act 
Scene: Same as in Act II, a moment later. 

At rise of curtain, the clock is just finishing the 
last stroke of six. Ricky is still in Oliver's arms, 
with her head buried on his breast, and he is staring 
over her head toward left, tensely expectant. They 
hold this position a moment in silence. By degrees, 
the room grows lighter as day breaks. Lights off 
right change to yellow, and stage lights gradually 
come on during the ensuing scene. 

Ricky. 
(In a frightened, muffled tone.) 
What happened? 

Oliver. 
(Dazed.) 
Nothing ! 

(As they listen intently, the silence grows oppres- 
sive and they instinctively grip each other more 
tightly. After another moment of rigid suspense on 
the part of both, Ricky unclasps her arms and 
moves away from him an awkward step or two.) 

Ricky. 

Well — (A desperate embarrassment seizes them. 
They avoid each other's eyes.) I bought these slip- 
pers last summer. 

103 



104 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Oliver. 
(Also looking floorward.) 
I wear boots. 

Ricky. 
(Politely.) 
Are they hard to break in? 

Oliver. 
Not when you buy them large enough. (They 
both essay a light, casual laugh, which dies a chill 
death.) 

Ricky. 
( Unhappily. ) 
I guess I will be going. It must be getting pretty 
late. 

Oliver. 
I have the time here. It is just (he pulls out his 
•watch) — five minutes past — six! (With a start, he 
compares the watch with the clock, goes to table, puts 
on his horn-rimmed spectacles, and catching up a 
sheet of paper, consults it. He speaks to himself 
wonderingly.) The figures are correct. (He stares 
unseeingly at Ricky.) Is there a cosmic law of at- 
traction and repulsion that transcends human de- 
duction ? 



Ricky. 
(Humbly.) 



I don't know. 



Oliver. 
(Absently.) 
It would prove conclusively the omnipresence of 
an attentive intelligence — an infinitely higher one 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 105 

than ours. (He slowly tears the paper to bits and 
goes to the window.) And kindlier! 

Ricky. 
(Dully.) 
It's morning. (Her former apathy settles upon 
her. ) 

Oliver. 
(Looking out of the window.) 
Nature has slept quietly and trustfully, and now 
it wakes refreshed. All the little creatures venture 
forth in search of food and drink. 

Enter Harry at right, with a pitcher of water. He 
stares at Ricky's white gown. 

Harry. 
What's the idea? Trying to slip over a little party 
on me? 

Ricky. 
(Sullenly.) 
No! 

Harry. 

( Warningly. ) 

Papa spank ! Little girls must always ask papa 

when they want to go to a dance. Then maybe he'll 

go, too. (He chucks her under the chin, and she 

drazvs away shudderingly.) 

Oliver. 
( Gravely. ) 
I assure you we were not dancing. 



106 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Harry. 
(Surprised.) 
Have you been up very long? 

Oliver. 
I have not been to bed. 

Harry. 
What ! (He looks at them both and suddenly 
roars with laughter.) That's pretty good, that is! 
Old Ollie ! (His aching head, jarred by the laughter, 
causes him to sit suddenly on the couch and put a 
hand to his brow in pain.) 

Oliver. 
(Puzzled.) 
Miss Ricky was kind enough to keep me company. 

Harry. 

(Leeringly.) 
She's a good-hearted little kid. Always willing to 
please. Ain't that right? (Ricky bolts for right 
door, as he takes a swallow of water from the pitcher. 
He calls after her.) Hey! Make me some coffee! 
Damn strong. And hurry ! 

Ricky. 
(Drawing a shaky breath of rebellion and despair.) 

Yes, sir ! 

(Exit Ricky at right.) 

Oliver. 
(To Harry.) 
Need you speak in that tone? 

Harry. 

(Flippantly.) 
If I want to. I'm paying her — not you. Don't 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 107 

spring any of that hero slush on me, Ollie, because 
the old roof won't stand another chuckle. Have a 
heart ! 

Oliver. 
{Slowly.) 
I can't believe that you would imply that I — that 
she — You didn't mean that; did you? 

Harry. 
(Chuckling in spite of the pain.) 
Aw, get out, Romeo ! I'm on to you quiet ones. 

(Oliver walks away and comes back to him. Harry 
drinks.) 

Oliver. 
{Mildly.) 

Shall you be sober by ten o'clock? 

Harry. 
{Groaning.) 
Hope so. Why? 

Oliver. 
(Mildly.) 
Because if you are, I intend to knock you down. 

Harry. 
(Bewildered.) 
Me? Knock me down? 

Oliver. 
As many times as you have strength enough left to 
get up again. I may also step on you. I shall de- 
cide that later. 



108 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Harry. 

(Still bewildered.) 
Something tells me you are angry with me, Ollie. 

Oliver. 
On second thought, I believe the present time is the 
more propitious. (Removes his spectacles, lays them 
on the table, and rolls up his sleeves. Harry watches 
him anxiously. Oliver suddenly roars at him.) 
Stand up ! 

Harry. 
(Cringing.) 
Ouch! Don't yell at me. (He holds his head in 
both hands.) 

Oliver. 
(Startled at his own tone.) 
What remarkable vibrations the voice may be cap- 
able of! (He growls experimentally, seems pleased 
at the volume, advances on Harry, and shouts.) 
Get up, you swine ! 

Harry. 
( Rising, s tupified. ) 
See here, Ollie : if I've said anything to offend you 
— damn me if I know what it was ! — but if I said it, 
I apologize. 

(Oliver, prepared for action, is now rather at a 
loss.) 

Oliver. 
(Puzzled.) 
Is that all there is to it? 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 109 

Harry. 
(Grumbling.) 
It's enough ; ain't it? I apologize, and that ends it. 

Oliver. 
(Rolling down his sleeves.) 
After all, it's quite simple. (He is apparently re- 
gretful and at the same time pleased with himself. 
He expands visibly, turns sharply on Harry, and 
once more roars at him.) Sit down ! (Harry obeys. 
Oliver gets pipe and tobacco from table, swaggers 
to fireplace, and fills pipe.) 

Enter Mrs. Quayle at left. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Alarmed.) 
Surely I heard voices raised in anger. (She be- 
comes angry herself.) Have you no consideration 
for those of us who are trying to snatch a few mo- 
ments of rest before to-morrow? 

(Oliver's inflated pride collapses at her reference 
to "to-morrow" Mrs. Quayle comes down left.) 

Harry. 
(Laughing.) 
By thunder! To-day's the day. Where's your 
star, Ollie? Where's the little cut-up that was going 
to jolt us off the map? 

Oliver. 
(Simply.) 
On its way back to the sun. 

Harry. 
Slipped up on you, eh? Gave you the once-over 



110 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

and said, "I'm going to show this smart guy up and 
make a fool of him." 

Oliver. 
( Gravely. ) 
Exactly. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Who has been looking from one to the other, now 
attacks Oliver.) 
Did you write that ridiculous article? 

Oliver. 

Yes. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
I have no patience with you, Oliver — I, who am so 
tolerant of the failings of others, so broad-minded, 
so considerate ! But this ! This last visionary prank 
of yours is too much for me, and I am obliged to take 
drastic steps as a means of protection. Henceforth 
you may consider me as a complete stranger. (She 
sits on the couch majestically.) 

Oliver. 
I was quite sincere. I hope you will believe that. 
(A chuckle from Harry and a snort of disdain from 
Mrs. Quayle. Oliver consults his watch.) In my 
calculations there may possibly be some element of 
resistance that I overlooked, in which case it is not 
yet too late for the catastrophe to occur. 

Mrs. Quayle and Harry. 
(Alarmed, in concert.) 
What! 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 111 

Oliver. 
(Still consulting the watch.) 
We shall not be safe for some moments. 

(The pitcher in Harry's hand begins to shake.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Timidly.) 
You know so much more about it than we do, dear 
Oliver. Tell me, is there no way we could send avia- 
tors out to frighten off the thing? Surely it would' 
not dare to approach if it realized our unfriendly 
attitude. 

(Oliver, unconscious of their presence, moves his 
lips frowningly as he calculates. There is an instant 
of silence and then, off stage, the didl, heavy roar of 
an explosion. This sound may be produced by drop- 
ping a heavy metal or stone weight, following the 
crash immediately by sound of the thunder sheet.) 

Harry. 
(Dropping the pitcher and jumping to his feet.) 
Good God! 

(Mrs. Quayle sinks on the couch with a scream. 
Oliver runs to the window and looks at the sky. 
His gaze searching the landscape, lowers to the val- 
ley.) 

Oliver. 
Fownes ! Your house has been blown up ! 

Harry. 
(Slowly and tragically.) 
I forgot it ! I forgot to put the fire out under the 
big tank. 



112 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Shocked out of her fright.) 
What are you talking about? 

Harry. 

(Dazed.) 
My still ! For God's sake, don't tell Enid ! (He 
staggers to the window to look.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Rising.) 

Your evil ways h&ve found you out, Harold. It is 
a judgment upon you. For myself, I hope I never 
see any of you again. 

As she sweeps up stage around right end of table, 
Enid and Leslie enter at left. 

Harry. 
(Agonized.) 
Sh! 

Leslie. 
Oh, what was that noise? 

Harry. 
Some blasting in the valley. 

Enid. 
(Going toward the window.) 
Where? (She speaks sharply to Harry.) Get 
away from there, sweetheart, and let me look. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Pausing on upstage side of table.) 
Your home, Enid, your beautiful home is in ruins. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 113 



Enid. 
What ! 

Mrs. Qitayle. 
And it's all Harry's fault. 

Enid. 

{Facing Oliver angrily.) 

Nothing of the sort ! It is Oliver's fault. If he 

hadn't dragged us up here in that silly storm of his, 

we'd have been there to look after it. I shall never 

forgive you, Oliver. 

(Without a word, Oliver detaches himself from 
the group at the windozv, crosses to left, picking up a 
book from the table as he goes, and sits in rocking- 
chair dozen left to read.) 

Harry. 
(To Enid.) 
My poor little wife ! 

Enid. 
(Tartly.) 
Oh, shut up, darling ! I never liked the place, any- 
way, and you'll have to buy me a better one now. 

Leslie. 
Mamma, it isn't in ruins. Just the windows on 
this side have been shattered ! Look ! 

Enid. 
Probably there isn't a mirror or a piece of glass- 
ware left (as the thought strikes her, she says 
pointedly to Harry) — or a bottle! 



114 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Harry. 
My wine cellar! (He comes forward and drops on 
the conchy his head in his hands.) 

Enid. 
(Sweetly.) 
And you'll not be able to get any more, lover. 
You know that; don't you, you poor thing? 

Harry. 
(Gravely.) 
All that wine! 

Leslie. 

(Giggling.) 

You can thank Oliver for making you reform. 

Harry. 
( Viciously. ) 
He and his "to-morrow" ! Blockhead ! 

(Oliver reads on without having heard.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Takes a few steps up center toward left.) 
Come Leslie! 

Ricky, having changed back to the dress worn in 
Act I, enters at right and stands listlessly in the 
doorway. 

Ricky. 
Coffee ! 

(Mrs. Quayle, up center left, turns back around 
left end of table.) 

Enid. 
Set the table in here, Ricky. Have you a table- 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 115 

cloth, Oliver? (Oliver does not hear.) It doesn't 
matter. Clear off this stuff and bring in the cups 
and saucers. No plates. 

Ricky. 
Yessum! (She sets dully about clearing the table.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 

(Sits on left end of couch.) 

We may as well have breakfast before returning 

to the city. Is it possible to get a car here? Leslie 

cannot be seen in an evening gown at this time of 

the day. 

Enid. 
I'm in the same fix. And Harry would look rather 
quaint himself. Wouldn't you, dearie? 

Harry. 
(Grumbling.) 
All that good wine! 

Mrs. Quayle. 
I shall not blame Oliver for the loss of our ward- 
robe, although a check might not be unwelcome, since 
we owe the disaster entirely to him. 

(Ricky throws her a look of hatred.) 

Leslie. 
Mamma! It was only a trifle of seven or eight 
hundred dollars. 

Enid. 

Oliver's bank account won't stand too heavy a 

strain. (She laughs.) I fancy he'll have trouble 

disposing of any future magazine articles. One 

doesn't forget a mistake of that sort — and such a 



116 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

positive mistake! Oliver! Oliver! (Oliver starts 
up.) Didn't you predict the end of the world to- 
day ? 

Oliver. 
I did; yes! 

Enid. 
And give the statement out to the press? 

Oliver. 
Yes. 

Enid. 
(Sweetly.) 
Don't you feel too silly for words? (Ricky bites 
her lip and utters an exclamation under her b?*eath.) 
What is it, Ricky? 

Ricky. 
(Sullenly.) 
Nothing! (Exit at right.) 

Oliver. 
I was mistaken. 

Leslie. 
(Laughing.) 
How ingenuous you are, Oliver ! For all the world 
like a big, awkward schoolboy ! 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Severely.) 
What a pity he didn't study longer and acquaint 
himself with his subject more thoroughly! It is 
criminal to speak with authority unless one is abso- 
lutely sure. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 117 

Ricky reenters at right, with a heavy tray on 
which are cups and saucers, also cream pitcher and 
sugar bowl. Oliver crosses and relieves her of it. 
She attempts a smile and goes out again at right. 
Oliver sets tray on the table, takes off dishes, and 
puts cups and saucers around at each place. 

Oliver. 
(Apologetically.) 
A scientist is apt to blunder. There are so few 
tangible facts to work with. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Irritably.) 
Then why be a scientist? Could anything be 
plainer than that? 

Derry enters at right. 

Derry. 
Good morning! Everybody up? 

Ricky follows him in, carrying a large pot of cof- 
fee which she sets on the table. Derry crosses to 
warm himself before the fire. 

Enid. 
(Crossly.) 
I hope you are not going to be cheerful before 
breakfast, Till. I can't bear it. 

Derry. 

( Laughing. ) 
I expect to find all of you greeting the glad morn 
with chirps of joy. You are still on earth; aren't 
you? 



118 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Enid. 
(With contempt.) 
Oh! (Enid, Mrs. Quayle, and Leslie look at 
Oliver with an expression of disdain.) You didn't 
think for a moment we believed that idiotic rot! 

Derry. 
(Kindly, sensing Oliver's unhappiness.) 
Well, better luck next time, Keane ! 

Oliver. 
(Humbly.) 
I find I know so little that I shall not attempt to 
express myself or teach again. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Sharply.) 
What will you do to make a living? 

Oliver. 
My needs are simple. I shall have everything I 
want — almost everything. 

Enid. 
Don't hope for anything from me. 

Oliver. 
(Without malice.) 
I never have hoped for anything from you. 

Derry. 
Coffee! Jove! It smells good, too. (He crosses 
to table.) 

(Ricky is patiently waiting in background, a little 
up right of table.) 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 119 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Querulously, nodding toward coffeepot.) 
Are you never going to pour it, Enid? 

Enid. 
Oh, Helen! Have a little patience, for the love 
of heaven ! 

(All gather about the table, with the exception of 
Oliver, who crosses to fireplace, Harry, who still 
holds his head in dull sorrow, and Ricky, who keeps 
her position up right.) 

Derry. 
(To Leslie.) 
'Morning, little girl ! Did you get any rest? 

Leslie. 
(Smiling roguishly.) 
I slept the whole night through like a baby. 
Didn't I, mamma? 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Fondly.) 
My angel ! 

(Enid pours the coffee, and Ricky passes the cups, 
cream, and sugar to each in turn.) 

Derry. 
What's the matter with Harry? 

Harry. 
(Groaning.) 
I paid one fifty a case for it — a hundred and fifty 
dollars a case! 

Enid. 
Harry's still just blew up the house. He is en- 



120 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

joying a little grouch party just because he lost all 
his wine and he will have to buy me that five-acre 
place next the Robertsons'. 

Derry. 
Is that what the noise was? {Laughs heartily.) 

Harry. 
If Ollie hadn't hustled us off, it wouldn't have 
happened. Blame him ! 

Enid. 
For once you are right, sweetheart. 

Leslie. 
(Sweetly.) 

What a lot of mistakes grown-up people make! 

Enid. 
Not all the grown-ups are fools, Leslie. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Pushing back her cup in sudden alarm.) 
Merciful heavens ! Has it occurred to any of you 
how this disgrace will rebound upon us as members of 
his family? 

Leslie. 
We can say we don't know him, mamma! 

(Derry looks at her in surprise.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Indignantly.) 
I, his cousin, must suffer for his folly! 

Enid. 
I fancy we needn't worry. Oliver won't dare 
show himself in public for quite some time. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 121 

Ricky. 
(Raspingly.) 
Gimme a cup of coffee. 

Enid. 
(Staring at her, displeased, before she answers.) 
Please! You will wait until we have finished. 

Ricky. 
I don't want it for myself. I want it for him. 
(She indicates Oliver, and Enid unwillingly pours 
the coffee and gives the cup to Ricky.) 

Enid. 
(Acidly.) 
If he had any manners he would sit at the table 
with us. Do you take cream and sugar, Oliver? 
Oliver ! 

Oliver. 
(Turning to her.) 
Cream, thanks ! 

Enid. 
There isn't any more. You will have to do with- 
out. (Ricky crosses to him with the cup, which he 
accepts absently. She hesitates and crosses slowly 
toward right door.) Come here and sit down like a 
gentleman. I'm sick of your clownish ways. 
(Oliver starts toward the table obediently.) 

Ricky. 
(Whirling about quickly and speaking in a choked, 
furious voice.) 
Don't do it ! You're too good for 'em. 

(There is a startled movement from, all the others.) 



122 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Enid. 
(Rising.) 
That will do, Ricky ! You may go. 

Ricky. 
(Blind with rage.) 
I'll go when I get good and ready ! 

Enid. 
You must be mad ! 

Ricky. 
If I am, you drove me to it, picking on him the way 
you been doing! Ain't you got any heart, any of 
you ? 

Enid. 
(Furiously.) 
Leave this room ! 

Ricky. 
Don't you s'pose he knows he made a mistake? Is 
that any reason why you should rub it in like this 
and kick him when he's down? That ain't fair. He 
done the best he could. They ain't one of j r ou that 
ain't made mistakes — worse ones than he ever 
thought of making, because he's white! 

Enid. 
( Ominously. ) 
What do you mean by this? 

Ricky. 
I mean you — and you and you! (Turns to one 
after another.) The whole outfit of you. You 
(looks at Enid) ain't got any right to live with your 
husband and hate him like you do. Ain't that a 
mistake? And she (pointing to Mrs. Quayle) 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 123 

thinks she's a good woman when she's nothing but a 
nasty-minded old hypocrite! 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Rising.) 
You little beast! 

Ricky. 

(Rushing recklessly on.) 
And she's (pointing to* Leslie) a rotter. Miss 
Eve said so last night when she heard her say she 
was going to marry him (pointing to Derry) and 
make a goat out of him ! 

Leslie. 
(Jumping to her feet.) 
It's a lie ! 

Ricky. 

You know it ain't a lie. 

Derry. 
(Rising uneasily.) 
You are going a bit too far, Ricky. 

Ricky. 
Don't you make a mistake, Mr. Derry. 

Harry. 

(Rising and addressing Ricky savagely.) 
Get out ! 

Ricky. 

(Turning on Harry.) 
You ! You've tried to kiss me for the last time ! 

Oliver. 
Rikki-tikki ! 



12 4 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

(Ricky, brought sharply out of her fury, looks 
first at hi?n and then at the others. Her chin quivers 
impotently.) 

Ricky. 
(Facing the table.) 
I'm sorry. 

Enid. 
(Coldly.) 
You may go at once. I shall not need your serv- 
ices after to-day. 

Ricky. 

Yessum. Thank you. (Exit at right with drag- 
ging footsteps. Oliver places his cup of untouched 
coffee on the mantelshelf and stares after her.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 
I have never been so startled in my whole life. Is 
the child crazy? 

Enid. 
Ungrateful imp! After all I've done for her. 
(Comes down and takes Harry by the arm angrily.) 
Is it true, darling? 

. Harry. 
Is what true, my love? 

Enid. 
What she said about your trying to kiss her? 

Harry. 
(Indignantly.) 
No! 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 125 

Enid. 
How disappointing! I should have got a sable 
coat out of you. 

Derry. 
(Who has been watching Leslie gravely.) 
What on earth gave her such an idea about you? 

Leslie. 
(Innocently.) 
I can't imagine unless she dreamed it. (She 
throws him a hurt, beseeching glance.) You — you 
believe it ! 

Derry. 
(Patting her hand.) 
No, honey ! Don't I know you? 

Leslie. 

(Going to her mother tearfully.) 

Mamma! Till doubts me! I am so unhappy! 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Gathering her in her arms and turning dramatically 
to Derry.) 
Tilden! Would you, can you suspect this pure 
lily? 

Derry. 
(Genuinely ashamed.) 
I am a cad. Forgive me, baby. 

Leslie. 
( Waving him away. ) 
No ! You have hurt me too deeply. Perhaps — 
in time — 



126 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Enid. 
Oh, let's break away from here and go back to 
town ! This thing is getting on my nerves. 

Oliver. 
(Trying to be hospitable.) 
Don't rush! I'm sure I've enjoyed — 

(Enid sniffs coldly.) 

Harry. 
Can we get a car? 

Derry. 
Ours is all right. I went down the road this morn- 
ing and looked it over. There is plenty of gas and 
everything. 

Enid. 
Then for heaven's sake, let's go ! This place gives 
me the creeps ! 

Oliver. 
Is there anything I — ? 

Enid. 
(Shortly.) 
No! (She goes up center.) Everybody ready? 

Derry. 
Where is Eve? 

Enid. 
(Coming down again.) 
I hadn't missed her. (Crosses to right door and 
calls.) Ricky! 

Ricky enters listlessly at right. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 127 

Ricky. 
Yes, ma'am? 

Enid. 
(Peremptorily.) 
Call Mrs. Hempstead ! We are leaving. 

Ricky. 
Yes, ma'am. (Crosses up to left door and exit 
upstairs.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 
That is always the way with women who claim to 
suffer from insomnia. They sleep until noon. 

Leslie. 
But mamma! Poor Eve didn't get to bed until 
after five. Neither of us — (She catches herself.) 
Neither of us slept because she woke me up coming in. 

Enid. 
If Eve gadded about less, she would be as normal 
as any of us. They say her wildness actually killed 
poor Jack. He gave her everything, too. Eve was 
a pauper and should have appreciated a noble soul 
like his, even if he did take drugs. 

Harry. 
I don't do that. (To Enid.) Do I, dearest? 



Not yet, sweetie ! 



Enid. 
( Sharply. ) 



Leslie. 
(Dimpling.) 
How strange this big, beautiful world is ! 



128 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Derry. 
(Humbly to Leslie.) 
I hope you will always stay just a little, little girl. 

Leslie. 
You don't want me to be — clever — like Eve? 

(Derry hesitates.) 

Enter Ricky at left, panic-stricken. 

Ricky. 
She's dead ! 

(This announcement has the effect of paralyzing 
the others for a moment. Then Derry leaps to his 
feet.) 

Derry. 
My poor old girl ! (He runs up left, brushes 
Ricky aside, and goes out at left door.) 

Enid. 
Phone for a doctor, Oliver. (Oliver hurries out 
at center, and his voice is heard in an indistinct mur- 
mur, vainly trying to get the operator.) Where did 
you find her, Ricky? What was it? What did she 
do? 

Ricky. 
( Trembling. ) 
I knocked on the door, and they wasn't no answer. 
Then I opened it a teeny bit and seen she was asleep. 
I was going to close it again, only she scared me the 
way she was lying on the bed with her hands crossed 
like a — like somebody dead. And she was so still ! 
Next thing I seen a little bottle on the table by her. 
It had folded white papers in it like headache pow- 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 129 

ders, and some of 'em was gone. I run over and tried 
to wake her. She — she — she — (Unable to go on, 
she sobs.) 

Leslie. 
(Sharply.) 
Suicide ! 

(Enid leaves the group and goes out hastily at left.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 
Whatever could have prompted such an action? 

Ricky. 
(Blazing at Leslie.) 
You made her do it ! 

(Leslie, genuinely frightened, backs toward her 
mother for protection.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Throwing an arm about Leslie.) 
My child? 

Ricky. 
(Contemptuously.) 
She ain't a child. She knows enough to be a 
wicked ol' grandmother! 

Leslie. 
Mamma ! Don't let her say such things ! 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Drawing herself up and speaking commandingly to 
Ricky.) 
Cease ! 

Ricky. 
And when she gets to be a grandmother, I hope 
she don't even have children! 



130 CI NDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Enid and Derry, supporting Evelyn on either 
side, enter at left. Ricky flies to flx tine couch. 
Evelyn is pale and stupefied. She essays a smile. 

Evelyn. 
Please don't bother. 

Enid. 
(To Derry.) 
Get her to the couch. Some water, Harry! 
(Harry crosses and goes out at right. She raises 
her voice and calls.) Oliver! 

Oliver enters at center, 

Oliver. 
Central doesn't answer. How is she? 

Evelyn. 
Quite all right. Just — tired! (She sits on the 
couch, her head dropping against the back of it. 
Ricky, kneeling in front of Evelyn, chafes the tat- 
ter's hands. Oliver pours a cup of coffee and 
brings it down to her. Derry takes it from him and 
bends over Evelyn, offering it to her.) 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(To Enid in a lowered voice.) 
What was it? 

Enid. 
Veronal ! 

Leslie. 
A drug fiend ! How dreadful of her ! 

(Derry looks at Leslie with sharp displeasure. 
Evelyn begins to laugh weakly.) 



CIN DERELLA OF THE STORM 131 

Derry. 
(To Evelyn, commandingly.) 
Drink this down ! (He holds the coffee to her 
lips.) 

Evelyn. 
I don't want it, Till. I want to sleep; that's all. 

Derby. 

You are not going to sleep. Understand? Drink 
this. (Obediently she drinks.) How much of that 
stuff did you take? 

Evelyn. 
Only ten grains. I'd never taken any before. I 
was so tired, perhaps that is why it — (Her voice 
trails off drowsily.) 

Derry. 

(Relieved.) 
Ten grains isn't enough to hurt her. Another cup 
of coffee, Keane. (Oliver takes the cup and refills 
it. Derry sits beside Evelyn and draws her head 
to his shoulder.) Listen, honey! Don't you know 
you shouldn't frighten us like this? Remember: We 
love you. 

(Evelyn laughs again weakly.) 

Evelyn. 
Love! (Suddenly hides her face against his coat 
and sobs brokenly.) 

Derry. 
(Holding her close.) 
Sh ! Eve dear ! 



132 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Leslie. 
(Angrily, to Derry.) 
Do you expect me to stand calmly by and watch 
this maudlin exhibition? What right have you, my 
fiance, to hold another woman in your arms and tell 
her that you love her — a woman whose affairs are 
known from the Country Club to the Exchange? 

Derry. 
(Catching Leslie up sharply.) 
That will do ! 

Leslie. 
(Furiously.) 
A woman who had the effrontery to tell me, not 
two hours ago in this very room, that she was in love 
with you and had always been ! 

Derry. 
Eve? (Rises.) 

Leslie. 
(Mockingly.) 
Eve! Telling me how to flirt and lie and deceive 
you! 

Ricky. 
(Seated on the floor and speaking to Leslie.) 
You asked her to. 

Derry. 
(To Leslie, looking from one to the other.) 
Then you were down here in the night. 

Leslie. 
(Biting her lip.) 
Certainly I was. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 133 



Derry. 
(Sternly.) 
Why did you lie about it ? Don't you know that I 
shall suspect you from now on — that I'll doubt every- 
thing you say? 

Leslie. 
(Tearing the ring from her finger and throwing it on 
the floor.) 
You'll not get the chance ! Take your cheap ring! 
I've always been ashamed of it. 

She flounces up center as Harry enters at right with 
a glass of water. 

Mrs. Quayle. 
(Surveying the others forbiddingly.) 
I bid you good morning. (Sweeps up stage to 
join Leslie.) 

Enid. 
(Exasperated.) 

Good-bye! (To Harry.) Take them to the sta- 
tion in the car, darling, and hurry! Good-bye, 
Leslie ! 

Leslie. 
(Coldly.) 
Humph ! 

(Exeunt Leslie and Mrs. Quayle at center, fol- 
lowed by Harry. Derry, dazed, reseats himself at 
Evelyn's side.) 

Enid. 
(Sharply.) 
Get up, Ricky! (Ricky scrambles up hastily.) 



134 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Take out those cups and saucers and the coffeepot. 
We've got to clear up this place and get into town. 

Ricky. 
(Timidly.) 
Are you going to let me go back with you? 

Enid. 
(Crossly.) 
Certainly not! Didn't I discharge you? 

Ricky. 
I don't know if I could walk to the station. It's 
pretty far. 

Enid. 
You should have thought of that before being so 
impertinent. 

Ricky. 

Leo will miss me. 

E*NID. 

Do as I tell you. 

Ricky. 

Yessum ! 

(She goes to the table to gather up a tray of 
dishes. Oliver follows her with the evident idea of 
saying something comforting. His mouth opens once 
or twice, but he remains awkwardly silent. Ricky, 
her head bent in humiliation, does not see this. He 
follows her to right door, as she exits. Meanwhile 
Derry and Enid give their attention to Evelyn.) 

Enid. 
Get her up, Till. She can sleep in the car going 
back. We'll go down the road and meet Harry. 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 135 



Derry. 
(Gently.) 
Eve! 

Evelyn. 
(Making an effort, raises herself and speaks wearily 
but happily.) 
It was nothing. I am wide awake. 

Derry. 
(Significantly. ) 
And so am I — now! (He kisses her hand and 
helps her to her feet. They go slowly around left 
end of couch and up center left, with his arm around 
her. Enid is about to follow them, then pauses and 
looks back.) 

Enid. 
Oliver! (Oliver, who is still gazing blankly at 
right door, starts to her.) I suppose we must make 
some return for your hospitality. There is room in 
the car. Come with us for lunch. 

Oliver. 
(Formally.) 
Will you excuse me? An old chum of mine, the 
Rev. Bartley Summers, wrote me he would be here 
before noon. Naturally I didn't expect him, on ac- 
count of — of — 

Evelyn. 
(At center doorway.) 
To-morrow? Thank you for this to-morrow, 
Oliver ! 

Derry. 

(Coming down center, shakes hands with Oliver 

heartily.) 



136 CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 

Good-bye, Keane ! It was Cupid, after all! (He 
and Evelyn go out at center.) 

Enid. 
(Disgustedly, as she goes up to center door.) 
Cupid! The fat little beast! (Exit at center.) 

Oliver makes a hasty movement toward right 
door, and at the slow opening of it, retreats in a 
panic of embarrassment toward the fireplace. Ricky 
enters at right, leading Leo. She is wearing her hat. 
Her bundle containing the white dress and shoes is 
under her arm. 

Ricky. 
( Timidly. ) 
Good-bye, Mr. Keane! 



Er— 



Oliver. 
(Awkwardly.) 



Ricky. 
Yes, sir! Thank you, sir. (Crosses up center, be- 
hind table, turns, drops Leo's leash, and, leaving him, 
comes back to Oliver. Her embarrassment is equal 
to his.) I got something that belongs to you. I 
ain't giving it back the way Miss Quayle did to Mr. 
Derry because I — I— didn't have any right to it in 
the first place. (Takes his ring from her finger.) 
Only that you was lonesome and thought it was all 
up with both of us made you do it. I know that. 
So you don't need to say, "I'm sorry," or "Wasn't 
I the durn fool?" or anything else. Just take it, and 
I'll pretend like I ain't looking. It's a pretty ring. 
(Holds it out, and automatically he takes it and 



CINDERELLA OF THE STORM 137 

looks at it dumbly. She hesitates painfully and then 
blurts out.) I hope the woman that gets it some day 
will be just the kind of a party you want. I wish to 
goodness it was me, but it ain't. {Turns and goes 
very slowly up to center door.) 

Oliver. 
(Desperately.) 
Rikki-tikki ! D-d-d-don't g-g-g-go ! 

Ricky. 
(Turning back and speaking before the words are 
out of his mouth.) 
All right! 

Curtain 



Sweetwater Trail 

BY 

Larry E. Johnson 

COMEDY in 3 acts; 7 men, 6 women. Time, 2% 
hours. Scene: 1 interior. 

CHARACTERS 

Captain Terry O'Rourke A secret service man 

Colonel Randolph 

An officer of the Royal Mounted Police 

Mrs. Sheldon A widow- 
Pomona The Randolph's hired girl 

Gabby Lon Peters Foreman of the Marlow ranch 

Jo Grosjean The Canuck cook at the Randolph's 

Dan Marlow A ranch owner 

Jeffrey Benson. . . .A lieutenant in the Mounted Police 

Annie Crowfoot An educated Indian girl 

Vera Randolph The Colonel's daughter 

I'eC SSSSS? } Vera ' s bridesmaids 

Wully McCallum. . . .A sergeant in the Mounted Police 

Unless Vera Randolph is married by midnight of 
the day before her twenty-fourth birthday, she must 
forfeit a large estate, left to her in a freak will, and 
the property goes to the young lieutenant of the 
Royal Mounted Police, a black sheep, whom she is 
planning to marry. At the eleventh hour the groom- 
elect exhibits his natural caddishness, and the bride 
promptly breaks off the marriage, only to discover 
that her precious lieutenant had not intended to 
marry her, anyway. Furious at being double-crossed, 
she hastily digs up another bridegroom, a young 
rancher from up Sweetwater Trail, and a midnight 
wedding is solemnized. Fireworks! The double- 
crosser finding himself double-crossed in his efforts to 
seize the coveted fortune, attempts to break the mar- 
riage, and is fought at every step by the doughty 
young rancher. Bad blood between the two men cul- 
minates in an apparently fatal quarrel, but a sudden 
surprising twist in the action turns a would-be tragic 
ending into comedy. A breezy drama of the Canadian 
Northwest, full of stirring situations and typical 
Johnson humor. 

Professional stage rights reserved and a 
royalty of fifteen dollars required for ama- 
teur performance. Price, Per Copy, 50c 



T. S. Denison 8C Company, Publishers 

623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 



The Winding Road 

BY 

Lillian Mortimer 

COMEDY-DRAMA in 3 acts; 5 men, 5 women. Time, 
2% hours. Scene: 1 interior. 

CHARACTERS 

Camilla Ray An orphan in search of a mother 

Billie Ray Her brother, ditto 

Pansy Black An ebony treasure 

Mrs. Lily Mason (Mother) 

A good imitation of the real thing 

Dick Mason, alias Johnny Harrison 

Not what he seems 

Sheriff Theodosia Flicker The law in petticoats 

Skidwell Flicker (Skid) The sheriff's husband 

Kay Elliston With a problem and a secret 

Ralph Gladden In love with Kay 

Jim Smith An ungrateful ( ?) son 

"Wanted: a Mother!" Thus runs the newspaper 
advertisement inserted by the orphans, Billy and 
Camilla Ray, in their search for a good old-fashioned 
mother to take the place of their own lost parent. 
And what a dear, motherly old soul it is that answers 
the advertisement! Billy and Camilla are enraptured 
with her. She is also welcomed by their friend, the 
genial old village philosopher. In reality, however, 
she is the wife and accomplice of a notorious crook — 
none other than the good village philosopher himself, 
who has settled in this quiet country town in order 
to establish an alibi, preparatory to making a rich 
haul among the New Year's Eve crowds in Philadel- 
phia, with her aid and that of their son. Their daugh- 
ter, who has run away from home to escape a life of 
crime and now earns her living by honest work, enters 
upon a dramatic struggle with her crooked parents, 
urging them to abandon their life of crime, and man- 
ages to win her brother over to her side. Suddenly 
the hand of fate decides the contest. An almost fatal 
accident turns the old couple from their shady career. 
A stirring play, breathless with suspense and full of 
strong heart interest, with two charming love affairs 
woven into the plot. 

Professional stage rights reserved and a 
royalty of ten dollars required for ama- 
teur performance. Price, Per Copy, 50c 



T. S. Denison 8C Company, Publishers 

623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 



What Anne Brought 
Home 

BY 

Larry E. Johnson 

COMEDY in 3 acts; 5 men, 4 women. Time, 2V 2 
hours. Scene: 1 interior. 

CHARACTERS 

Sam Bennet A small-town lumber merchant 

Mrs. Hattie Bennet His wife 

Alma Bennet His youngest daughter 

Herb Hardcastle. . .Alma's young man, with ambitions 

Henry Bennet Sam's brother 

Anne Bennet Purdy Sam's second daughter 

Dudley Purdy What Anne brought home 

Nina Bennet Sam's eldest daughter 

J. T. Raymond 

....General manager of an electric power company 

Fresh from a prosperous run on Broadway and a 
remarkably successful career in professional stock, 
this capital comedy of small-town life well deserves 
its popularity with the theater-going public. What 
Anne brings home from Valpo, to the consternation of 
her family, is a brand new husband, with whom she 
settles down in an already overcrowded household. 
Henceforward, Dudley, the young husband, has to 
sleep with the cranky Uncle Henry and endure the 
gibes of his in-laws, who make no secret of their 
contempt for him and sneer at his pet project of 
establishing a fish farm. The truth is that as a go- 
getter Dudley is a total loss. Nevertheless he per- 
sists in the fish farm enterprise, in the interest of 
which he secures an option on some property of his 
father-in-law, thereby temporarily blocking the sale 
of the land to a power-company magnate and in- 
curring the wrath of not only the in-laws but Anne 
herself. How he finally manages to put over a big 
deal with the magnate, straighten out two tangled 
love affairs, placate the in-laws, and square himself 
with Anne are details of as vividly human and humor- 
ous a story as ever delighted an audience. Cast has 
a rich variety of comedy types including Anne's mat- 
ter-of-fact mother; her dryly humorous father; Herb, 
the swaggering go-getter; and the irascible Uncle 
Henry, whose particular bug is "cramberry" culture. 

Professional stage rights reserved, and a roy- 
alty of twenty-five dollars required for every 
amateur performance. Price, Per Copy, 50c 



T. S. Denison 8C Company, Publishers 

623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 




HILARIOUS FARCE COMEDIES 

>4 Busy Honeymoon 

Farce-comedy in 3 acts, by Laket E. 
Johksok; 6 m., 6 w. Time, 2*4 hrs. 
Scene: 1 interior. Princess Alma of 
Deleria, on a visit to the United States, 
outwits her scheming royal mamma and 
elopes with a young crown prince, there- 
by starting a chain of thrilling events. 
Uproariously funny. Royalty, fifteen 
dollars. Price, 30 Cents 



%e Absent-Minded Bridegroom 

Farce in 3 acts, by Larbt E. Johksok ; 
6 m., 6 w. Time, 2% hrs. Scene: 1 in- 
terior. Tim Shea, to escape impending 
marriage, pretends to lose his memory 
and assumes a false identity. The per- 
sistence of the bride and the appearance 
of a pseudo-wife and three children pile 
up trouble for him and laughs for the 
audience. Royalty, ten dollars. 

Price, 50 Cents 



Ihe Mummy ami the Mumps 

Farce in 3 acts, by Larky E. Johksok ; 
5 m., 5 w. Time, 2 x / 2 hrs. Scene: 1 in- 
terior. To evade quarantine for the 
mumps, Sir Hector Fish has himself ex- 
pressed to the ladies' seminary, in which 
he is to teach, inside the mummy case he 
is bringing from Egypt, only to find an- 
other Hector in the field. Hilarious 
complications arise. Royalty, fifteen 
dollars. Price, 50 Cents 





T.S.DeniSOn 6Comr>kinv 0>ut>tiahers 

633 Jou+h Webo«h Ave. CHICAGO 

T— 1228 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



016 103 315 7 



Venisons IIIII 

Royalty 

F>leLys 

— have been carefully selected for their 
high degree of dramatic strength and 
their practicable acting qualities. The 
majority of them have been specially 
written for amateurs by experienced 
playwrights with professional successes 
to their credit. The plays have been 
edited with unusual care, particularly 
as to stage directions, which are so 
complete, clearly expressed, and easily 
understood that they almost direct 
themselves. Above all, the Denison roy- 
alty plays have the swift movement, the 
humor, and the emotional qualities that 
appeal strongly to young players and 
grip the attention of audiences 
throughout an evening's entertainment. 




T.S. Den i son & Company Pullishen 

623-S. Wabash Ave. Chicago 



